


A Late Night Waltz

by again



Category: Thai Actor RPF, offgun
Genre: 19th Century, Alternate Universe - Historical, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, M/M, Mutual Pining, Scotland, Secret Relationship, Suicidal Thoughts, Suicide Attempt, Translated from wattpad, and date, poetic gays just wanna have fun, sad as fuck not gonna lie
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-05
Updated: 2021-02-27
Packaged: 2021-03-06 15:07:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 12
Words: 39,544
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26300908
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/again/pseuds/again
Summary: Jumpol Adulkittiporn, at 18 years old, can see ghosts. For more times than he would've liked, he's helped those who can't rest in peace by dealing with their unfinished businesses. Until one day, in the summer of 2000, his own grandfather dies and Jumpol ends up inheriting a house; the place where he meets Gun, the sweet, wistful-eyed ghost, who won't speak for the life of him.That summer, Jumpol spends the rest of his vacation in the house number 31A, at the corner of Kippen, West Stirlingshire, Scotland, unveiling the past of his great grandfather. This is a story of how he falls in love with a tale as old as time.A story by Wawaowai.
Relationships: Off Jumpol Adulkittiporn/Gun Atthaphan Phunsawat
Comments: 112
Kudos: 257





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> ok so as you can see from the summary and the tags, this work is not mine. it belongs to [ Wawaowai on Wattpad](https://www.wattpad.com/story/227108635-a-late-night-waltz-offgun), and it's written in Bahasa Indonesia, so if you can read the language, just go for the original cuz it's worth it. trust me. 
> 
> anyway, that's all the disclaimer i wanted to put out so there's no misunderstanding or anything. go ahead and watch these idiots fall in love now <3

_Did you sail across the sun?_

_Did you make it to the Milky Way_

_To see the lights all faded?_

_And that Heaven is overrated? (1)_

**City of London School (CLS)**

**Queenhithe, London**

**Mid-June, year 2000**

Jumpol pressed the soap dispenser, rubbing his hands under running water. He was still wearing his full graduation toga, complete with the cap on. He glanced at the mirror, sighing against the sink. Gunsmile grinned behind him.

"Look, If we can't find it... " Jumpol said, earning an unimpressed look from Gunsmile.

"...If. I said _If_ ," he continued, rolling his eyes. He turned around and crossed his arms, staring back the ghost reluctantly.

"I'm sure you can find it, Jum. Keep trying!" Gunsmile exclaimed in glee, creating a fist with his right hand.

"Keep trying, your ass maybe." Jumpol deadpanned. "We've been looking for it for almost a month. Just forget about it! What are you going to do with the pendant anyway? Take it to hell with you?"

“Ish, Jum, no need to be so harsh," he crossed his arms. "I don't care, it has to be found. Otherwise, I'll haunt you for the rest of your life!" he threatened. Gunsmile floated away from Jumpol, fading through the closed toilet entrance.

Today was Jumpol's graduation day from CLS. He had crept out of the photoshoot session in the auditorium to hide in the bathroom because Gunsmile wouldn't stop pestering him. Gunsmile was not the first ghost that had revealed themselves to Jumpol. Normally they would ask for his help to deliver a message, then simply disappear once the deed was done. But the ghost with the half damaged face and overly cheerful demeanor had asked Jumpol to look for a necklace instead, the one with a silver pendant, shaped like a whistle. He admitted to have kept somewhere behind one of the lockers.

Problem was, Gunsmile had passed away 18 years ago, and CLS had undergone several renovations since then. Nobody would’ve known which locker he'd meant. And even if they could find the locker, Jumpol was almost certain the necklace wouldn’t have survived.

Jumpol really wanted to quit, but he dreaded the thought of having to see Gunsmile, with a face like that, every day for the rest of his life. No offense.

“Juummm!” Gunsmile yelled, poking his head in through the door.

Jumpol sighed once again. 

“I’m coming, just stop... stop with the yelling,” he muttered before leaving the bathroom, following the floating ghost who chuckled merrily in front of him.

***

A month ago, at the start of a cloudy May, Mr. Pompam Chaichitatorn had announced a friendly match which also served as a farewell, for the three core players of the CLS basketball team who would graduate in June. It had been a routine he’d suggested five years ago. The CLS basketball coach had specifically requested for his team to compete against England’s semi-professional university players. Not that he had been confident in winning, of course, it would be nearly impossible, but to merely have some fun.

This year, they were competing against the Bradford Dragons, the elite basketball team of Bradford College. Mr. Pompam had taken all the core players and a few backups, 204 miles across Queenhithe towards Great Horton Rd, Bradford, inside of a rented bus. In that 4-hour journey, they had only stopped one time; lunch in an Italian restaurant, which happened to be near a rest area location.

Jumpol had already felt something odd since he'd excused himself to look for a restroom in the rest area. But he'd ignored this unusual hunch, choosing to focus on the match ahead.

And it was indeed a sweaty and a stressful afternoon. The core players of CLS, Jumpol, Tay Tawan, Fluke Gawin, Bright, and their captain Arm, had dashed on the court with enthusiasm, playing the game ‘til the very end. The last two points given to Bradford Dragons had finally ended the last 4 times of 10 minutes they would ever spend on the court together. CLS lost, of course, but at least they lost with dignity.

Okay, that wasn't true. The final score was 98-51. Bradford had destroyed them without mercy.

Nevertheless, they had not been on a par with those monsters compared to their skills. Though, all the players, especially the graduating seniors, Jumpol, Tay, and Arm, had felt very pleased. What a great match to conclude their careers as CLS basketball players.

As everything was closing to an end, Arm, following the instructions from Mr. Pompam, handed his captain badge over to Bright, accompanied by the deafening applause from the entire team. They took turns taking showers, and got themselves ready in the changing room. Mr. Pompam wanted to bring them home that same night.

Then Jumpol screamed his lungs in horror behind one of the bathroom stalls.

“Peng! Peng! Are you okay in there? Peng!” Tay, who was done with his shower, with a towel hugging his waist, pounded on Jumpol’s bathroom stall door where the latter could be heard cursing his tongue over and over.

“Oi, Jumpol! If you don’t answer soon, I’m breaking this door open!” Arm said, impatient.

“Goddamn it!” Jumpol cried out in frustration once again, before opening the door carefully.

He stared at Tay and Arm, moving to the rest of his teammates who froze in suit. They seemed alarmed, but there was no time to worry about anyone else since Jumpol bet he looked as white as a cotton pad.

“I want to throw up,” he said, running to the sink, puking his guts out into the bowl. He gurgled a handful of water and splashed some to his face, before looking in the mirror.

“ _Shiiiittt_ ,” he hissed, turning his back to the mirror.

Hearing all the noises in the bathroom, Mr. Pompam came in, face full of questions. “What’s wrong with you, Jumpol?”

Jumpol turned his head, face pale. “Sorry, Sir, I—“

“Wait, wait!” Mr. Pompam quickly interjected, watching the entire team going pale. All the hair on his body visibly stood up. “Stop right there, Jumpol. Don’t say another word, okay? All of you, put on your clothes. We’re almost late for dinner,” he continued, changing the topic.

The players started walking away from Jumpol. They wore their clothes back with lightning speed and ran out without looking back for an explanation.

“Peng?” Tay attempted to calm his best friend down, though he himself was already a trembling mess.

Jumpol shook his head slowly. He chose to follow his friends’ footsteps, wearing his clothes without too much chatting. From the side of his eyes, he could still see the horrifying creature. A ghost with half his face in ruins and a shattered right arm, who had shown his form to Jumpol in the bathroom stall earlier and gleefully introduced himself as Gunsmile; a CLS student who had died near the rest area where they’d had lunch this afternoon. As far as he knew, this ghost was the scariest one he’d ever encountered.

“Hey, Jumpol,” Ssing Harit, the youngest of the backup players who was stuck sitting beside Jumpol and Tay the night ride home, started a conversation warily. “That thing didn’t follow us here, right? Hehe.”

Jumpol caught a glimpse of Gunsmile floating and spinning around without a care in the bus. He smiled at Ssing, and shook his head.

“Sorry I scared you guys. I just… had never met anything like it,” Jumpol scratched the back of his neck. He glared at Tay who nodded in understanding.

The school didn’t know anything of Jumpol’s ability, except for the basketball team and Mr. Pompam. Though, it was only Tay who knew that the ghosts would never be able to leave him alone until he granted their wishes.

Jumpol just needed one week to get used to Gunsmile.

***

“You’re certain it’s here?” Jumpol scanned his face, doubtful.

“I’m serious, Jum! For sure. Now push the locker to the side, there’s a hole behind it.” Gunsmile spun in the air with excitement.

Jumpol narrowed his eyes.

“Ih, hurry up, Juuum! Before anyone gets here,” the ghost pressed on.

“Watch out if it turns out to be nothing,” Jumpol took his graduation cap off, setting it on the floor randomly.

The locker was high and heavy. Jumpol tried to push, pull, and slide it, but the iron cabinet wouldn’t budge. He was already out of breath, feeling tricked by the ghost.

“Come on, Jum! You're doing awesome, Jum!”

For whatever’s sake, Jumpol really wanted to punch him. But any object he threw at the ghost, including his fist, would only cut through his transparent body. Believe him, he’d tried. Multiple times.

After succeeding in leaving a big enough opening, Jumpol lit on his flashlight and stood stunned. There were layers of tape on the wall, as if patching up a hole. Jumpol tried peeling them off, cheering silently when his hand found a small hollow space right where the tapes had been. He watched as Gunsmile cried in joy.

“I told you it’s there, didn’t I, Jum! Take it, Jum!”

Jumpol groped around the hole and pulled something out. It was true. A necklace with a whistle-shaped pendant, made out of silver. Maybe. The necklace he was observing in his hand had turned into a much darker shade.

“Here then, take this to hell,” Jumpol said, extending his arm towards Gunsmile.

Gunsmile clapped, but shook his head.

Oh, that was true. How would he be able to carry it with him?

Jumpol was struck with a realization.

“Don’t tell me. I still have to give this to another random person who lives in god knows where for _you_.”

Jumpol could actually go insane if there was a part two to this mission. 

Although, fortunately, Gunsmile smirked and shook his head again. 

"Do whatever you want with it, Jum. Put it in the trash even, it’s fine by me. I’m relieved now," he said, eyes sincere. 

Gunsmile waved and whispered a goodbye, then vanished just like that. 

Jumpol's work was done. 

Huh?

_Huh?_

"Then why did you make me do all that work if I would just end up throwing it away, Gunsmile?!!!" Jumpol popped a vein. He scowled at his now dirty graduation toga, the messy old tapes covering the floor, the hole in the wall, and the locker which needed to get back in place.

"Oi, demon!" he cursed.

***

"Where the hell is Jumpol anyway?" Arm grumbled all the way from the corridor. He and Tay were heading towards the basketball court, where all the other teammates waited for them. 

"Probably ate something bad last night," Tay answered, nonchalant.

Tay actually had a guess with what his best friend was doing, perhaps attending that ghost who'd been following him everywhere for weeks now. But Tay didn't have the heart to tell Arm about that.

"I'm gonna look for him, Arm. You go ahead."

"Don't take too long, Tay. Just leave him behind if you can’t find him." 

Tay waved him away, before turning to another corridor. At the end of the hallway, he saw his best friend struggling to move a locker. 

"Oi, Peng!" Tay Tawan Vihokratana, Jumpol's best friend since they were little, called. Jumpol had just finished placing the locker back in place, when Tay tapped on his shoulder. "What are you doing running off to this place?

Jumpol didn't answer, his face muddy. He only reached down his pocket, and flung the damned necklace at Tay. 

"Huh? What's this?" Tay furrowed his eyebrows at the object on his palm.

"The necklace," Jumpol answered. His hands were busy cleaning off the dust on his clothes. He lifted his cap which had been lying on the floor, slapping it lightly. 

Tay scanned the necklace for a while, then stood up straight, neck stiffening. _Oh!_ He looked around, whispering cautiously. 

"Is the ghost still around?" 

"It's gone." 

Tay heaved a relieved breath. 

"Wait, then what's this for, Peng?" he asked, lifting the necklace in wonder. 

"It's garbage, Tawan. Go ahead, drop it in the River Thames."

Tay watched as his friend's face turned sour by the second. His laugh exploded. "Hahaha... Oh my god, Peng, you really got played."

Jumpol glared. 

"Sorry... sorry," Tay wrapped his arm around his best friend, leading him to the basketball court. "I mean, at least the ghost is gone now, right? Come on, all the guys are waiting for us in the basketball court. Arm got there earlier." 

"What do they want?"

"To take pictures, Peng! For keepsakes. Besides, we won't be seeing Arm every day like this after we leave."

Jumpol sighed. He let his best friend drag him wherever. No energy to refuse whatsoever.

To be honest, he wished he could go home. Take a shower, then sleep with zero interruption. Hopefully he wouldn't meet a ghost in these few days. 

Jumpol didn't know at the time, his grandfather had fallen headfirst to the ground in the backyard. He’d had a heart attack and died before anyone managed to get him to a hospital.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (1) Train – Drops of Jupiter, was released in 2001.
> 
> if you make it all the way to the end, thank you so much for reading. ily.


	2. A Place Where You Belong (Part 1)

**117B Lordship Ln.**

**Dulwich, London**

**Mid-June, year 2000**

Mozart was heavy in the air. Jumpol’s fingers danced on the piano tuts, playing notes of Requiem in D Minor, K. 626.

The funeral ceremony had been held two days ago. The maids were bustling around the house, sorting items of Jumpol’s grandfather that would be donated to the nursing home. Jumpol and both of his parents were currently lounging in the living room. His sister, Am, couldn’t make it back home since she still had a final thesis to complete in Questrom School of Business, Boston University, Massachusetts.

Jumpol yawned amidst his playing. He’d been up all night consoling his sister who had bawled her eyes out on the phone.

If he thought about it, Am, who was older by 7 years, had always been closer to their grandfather unlike Jumpol. Before deciding to leave for a university in Boston, Am had spent her days, every afternoon, under the backyard’s gazebo. Listening to the tales of their grandfather’s youth, back when the Adulkittiporn family had first lived in Scotland. It was a story which had no ending.

Whereas Jumpol had preferred to spend his days with Tay, swimming near the gazebo or playing rounds of basketball in Dulwich Park. Unless it was a Thursday afternoon, then it was time for his piano lesson.

The conversations between the elder and the grandson had only revolved around asking Jumpol to play the piano in the living room, or randomly praising the striking resemblance Jumpol had with his great grandfather. Although it may seem bland, at least their relationship had been alright.

Among his sister’s sobs, Jumpol had gotten a chance to say that he hadn’t seen his grandfather’s ghost anywhere. And that meant he had gone in peace. Am had calmed down a little after that. 

***

“I thought dad sold the house,” Dararat sipped on her chamomile tea, glancing at the documents on the table. 

Jumpol yawned again. The 18 year-old finally ended his little performance after playing the  _ introitus, _ and dragged himself towards his parents. He stretched his hands towards the documents laid on the table, and was immediately impressed as he opened it to the pictures at the back of the last page. A large, magnificent Victorian style house.

“Wow. Did grandpa look after the house in secret?” Jumpol flipped the document facing his dad, showing pictures of rooms that weren’t just neat and clean, but also artistic.

Sompob leaned closer, eyeing the printed month and year at the corner of every single photo.  _ August, 1995 _ .

“These pictures were taken five years ago,” Sompob reached the document, looking at it critically. “It could be all mold and dust by now for all we know,” he continued and shrugged.

Dararat raised an eyebrow, “Summer of 1995? Wasn't that the time when dad suddenly announced he wanted to sell the house?” She placed the cup on the table, staring at her husband. 

The Adulkittiporn family had been running a fairly successful property business: Land of S & Co., located at King Street, Hammersmith. Five years ago, the company, which had been brought up by Jumpol’s grandfather, had gotten hit by a sudden crisis. Land of S & Co. had needed more financial assistance than they’d previously thought of. Jumpol’s grandfather had then suggested the brilliant idea to sell the family-inherited house in Scotland.

Initially, Sompob had disagreed because, despite whatever, the house held countless memories as it had been his father’s childhood home. A reminder of their history, and a symbol of Earl Adulkittiporn’s glory during his period, before Jumpol’s grandfather had decided to relinquish their noble title and settled in London instead. But he had insisted for them to sell the house, and it was true, they had not visited it once ever since Sompob had gotten married, so they'd agreed to move along with the plan at the end.

Strange. His grandfather had never ended up selling the house.

This fact had surprised them two days ago, after the funeral ceremony. A man, who had claimed to be a lawyer of Jumpol’s grandfather, had come to offer his condolences and present a will. Of course, all the properties of Adulkittiporn would be given to Sompob as the only child. Although, afterwards, Mr. Lee, the lawyer, also delivered a piece of letter, hand-written by his grandfather, specifically stating that he had decided to bequeath the house number 31A at the corner of Kippen, West Stirlingshire, Scotland, to Jumpol Adulkittiporn, his sole grandson, complete with the detailed documents regarding the house.

“Ah, these pictures were probably taken to be advertised. You see,” Sompob showed the document to his wife. “Dad must’ve hired a professional photographer. Every corner of the house looks antique and artistic. He probably wanted to market it on the House of Lords.”

House of Lords was a high board of the Parliament, in which its members were all peers from all over the United Kingdom. Before the year 1999, every aristocrat with a hereditary peerage, including Earl, would've automatically been authorized to sit as a member of the House of Lords. Jumpol’s grandfather still had a few relatives there, even after giving up his title a few years ago. 

“Hmm... Something must’ve changed his mind,” Sompob continued, rubbing his chin, trying to guess. 

“Honey,” Dararat kept her eyes on her husband, “If dad didn’t sell the house, then where did he get all the money for Land of S?" 

Sompob plopped down. Then his eyes widened, returning his wife’s gaze. “Don’t you remember? He probably used up his vacation funds in exchange.”

“Oh,” Jumpol interrupted. “Was that why he cancelled his trip?”

Jumpol's grandfather had actually arranged to travel around Europe as a way to savor his old days, right after Jumpol’s grandmother passed away in winter of 1994, a week before Christmas Eve. Jumpol’s grandparents had lived in a rest house on the bank of the river Thames in Battersea. After she’d died, Sompob, who had been worried for his father, had asked him to move in with them to Dulwich. But for some reason, Jumpol’s grandfather had been the one to cancel the trip himself. He'd said that he would rather spend the rest of his days with his two grandchildren. Now they knew that had been simply rubbish.

“Damn, that old man was so bloody stubborn,” Sompob sighed.

Perhaps, other than stubborn, the Adulkittiporn family was also good at hiding secrets.

“Hahh… Whatever the reason was,” Sompob moved to his son, “The house is yours now. You do whatever you want with it.”

“I can sell it?” Jumpol asked, suddenly interested. Imagine the asset he could start with to build his own business. 

Sompob shrugged. “If nobody’s been taking care of the house these past five years, it may need lots of renovations.”

“But, Jumpol,” Dararat sipped on her camomile again. “I don’t think your grandfather would be glad if you sold it. Please think about this before you do anything.”

Jumpol stared at the documents on the table, contemplating his mother’s words. 

“Uh, by the way, Jumpol,” Sompob looked at his son, his face colored in all seriousness.   


Jumpol raised his gaze from the documents.

“Do you see your grandfather around here?” 

Jumpol looked all over the room, then shook his head. 

Sompob sighed relieved. 

***

**Dulwich Park**

**Dulwich, London**

**Mid-June, year 2000**

Jumpol lurched to his left as Tay moved to his right--he was wrong in predicting the former’s move. He dribbled the ball towards the ring, and did a  _ lay up _ in one swift jump. The net shook; 12-9, with Jumpol on the lead. 

Tay scoffed. He wiped the sweat on his forehead, then snatched the bouncing ball under the ring, running further from Jumpol to the side of the field. 

They were doing a  _ one on one _ . 

"So, you’re going to Scotland?” Tay asked, walking backwards. He suddenly leapt out of the line.  _ Three point shot _ . But the ball only knocked the edge of the ring, bouncing back to the center of the field. 

Jumpol seized the ball. Dribbling with haste, he did a jump. The ball hit the board as the net fluttered under the ring.  _ Bank shot.  _ 14-9.

“Show off!” Tay shouted. 

“Then stop shooting for three points, Peng! Luck doesn’t come that often,” Jumpol said just as loud. 

“Fuck you.”

Tay got the ball again. He stopped outside the line, tossing the ball with spite. The ring shook. 14-12. 

“Ha! Eat that, Peng!” he said, smirking. 

That afternoon, Dulwich Park was not too packed. The summer wind had started to blow, and the stifling hot weather caused most people not to be as willing to get out of their houses. Except for maybe teenagers with too much energy to spend, like Jumpol and Tay.

The first time Tay had greeted Jumpol, that boy had been by himself, muttering under the  _ laburnum _ tree by the school playground in Primrose Hill. He’d said that he’d been talking to the stout lady with a hay hat, who had seemed to be lost. Tay had looked around in curiosity, but he caught nobody in sight. Only then he realized his friend could see ghosts. 

Until one evening, Jumpol had stood in front of his house, holding a music book to his chest. He’d asked to meet Mrs. Vihokratana. Tay had wondered why he’d want to meet his mother. But his friend answered that his mum had sent him to learn the piano. Tay had poked his head out of the door, he hadn’t seen Jumpol’s mother anywhere.

Tay had swallowed, he’d asked if his mother was alright.

Jumpol had stared at him blankly.

He’d said that he’d only walked to Tay’s by himself because his house was across from his. They had been inseparable ever since. 

***

“Oi, Peng. You haven’t answered my question,” Tay threw a bottle of cold water towards Jumpol. They were on a break after exhausting themselves with the game. 28-23, Jumpol won this time. They stretched out on the field, bathing in the sundown glow. 

"Which one?" Jumpol quickly caught the bottle, drinking half of it in one gulp. 

"You're going to Scotland?" Tay repeated.

"Oh… yeah. I can count it as a vacation. The house is mine now anyway, so I'm a little curious. Maybe I'll sell it," Jumpol said, lying down, staring up at the red sky. 

"Alone?" Tay asked again. 

Jumpol nodded. "My parents can't be there. And my sister is still in Boston," he said casually. 

In the will, Jumpol's grandfather had written a name and a phone number. His mother had called it to confirm the documents, and at the same time, inform, the death of his grandfather. The man at the end of the line had sounded very sad, but had assured them that the house had long been renovated, and had always been looked after fine. All this time, Jumpol's grandfather had actually been hiring several maids and housekeepers. That man had wished for them to visit the place this summer. 

Both of his parents, in fact, would really love to visit, it was a great opportunity to discuss the future of the house and all the people that were employed. But since it was impossible for Sompob to leave the business in King Street, they had finally agreed to send Jumpol alone in their stead. And Jumpol  _ was _ the inheritor of the house. Nevertheless, he was the one most entitled to decide for it himself. 

"What about your preparations for Oxford?" Tay asked again. He followed his position; lying down, gazing at the sky. Inhaling the gradually cooling air of the fallen dusk. 

"I'll come back to London in August,"

"Early August?" 

"Mid?" Jumpol asked, hesitating. "Or faster if I can't bear any longer than that," he continued.

They would be moving on with their studies to Said Business School, University of Oxford. Occupying the apartments provided for the freshman students. The new academic year would only start in September. 

Sometimes Off wondered why their friendship could last this long. They hadn't even told each other which university they would go to. They'd burst out laughing when they'd found out they were going to the same college together. 

Tay rose from his cross-legged sit, taking the ball and positioned himself in front of the ring, outside the three point line. He launched the ball. The ring trembled as it went through the net. 

Jumpol shook his head, amazed at his best friend’s stamina. Tay Tawan Vihokratana had been the most accurate three point shooter in the CLS basketball club. He couldn’t understand why his best friend was so obsessed with this type of shot.

“What are you doing this summer, Peng?” Jumpol called. He sat up, watching as his best friend shot for the ring again. 

Tay paused for a second. “I don’t know. Something with basketball? Maybe?” he answered, raising his shoulders. He was preparing to do another shot. This time the ball bounced off and flew away from the field. Tay sighed in disappointment. 

“By the way, my dad just gave me a camera. Leica M4-P, 1987. Maybe I’ll take it around London, snap some pictures,” he continued, before walking further away to get the basketball.

Jumpol stared at his best friend’s back. These days, that friend of his had really been fascinated with anything photography. He pondered for a moment, and his head popped an idea.

“Oi, Peng!” Jumpol yelled in excitement. He quickly stood up from his sitting position. 

Tay approached him back, carrying the ball. He raised one eyebrow. 

Jumpol smirked. 

“Wanna go to Scotland?” he offered.

Tay came to halt, falling silent for a second.

He replied with a bigger grin. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you for reading <33 also i love offtay


	3. A Place Where You Belong (Part 2)

**London, England--**

**West Stirlingshire, Scotland**

**End of June, year 2000**

To fulfill Tay’s passion in photography, Jumpol and his best friend had decided to go to Scotland by car. Sompob had generously lent his Bentley Arnage, though he had asked them to take turns in driving it.

Dararat had tried persuading Jumpol to let one of the maids or the chauffeurs come with them. But, luckily, Sompob convinced her that they would already have enough people to help them in Kippen. 

Both of them left on a Monday morning, shortly after breakfast. The distance between London and Kippen was 438 miles. Driving without stopping through the M6 toll lane after travelling for 40 minutes towards Denham, they should’ve entered West Stirlingshire in seven and a half hours. But Jumpol deliberately took breaks in multiple rest areas, watching Tay spend the last of his film roll.

The sun had almost set in the west, as their car made a beeline for Stirlingshire. Beds of golden wheat fields surrounding them pampered their eyes. The road was getting quiet, they could count by hand how many cars they had seen passing by them this time of the day. Gargunnock Hills stretched beyond his vision to the west. Tay rolled his side of the window, hurriedly grabbing his Leica.

Jumpol, who'd refused to change positions and insisted on staying behind the wheels for ten hours, glowered at his best friend in embarrassment. 

"Tay, _please_. You can take as many pictures as you'd like tomorrow. I want to get there before it's too dark," he interrupted.

Tay placed the camera back inside the bag. He turned to Jumpol, smiling innocently. 

***

Kippen stood between Gargunnock Hills and Fintry Hills. To the north, laid River Forth, twisting and bending for almost 29 miles, covering a portion of Stirlingshire. The 1998 Bentley Arnage was now slowly entering the high stone gateway with the beautiful "Kippen, Stirling" engraved at the top. 

Truthfully, Jumpol hadn't expected too much from this small hometown of his grandfather. But he was rather amazed at the neat and spotless road, the minimalist houses all built in systematic rows. The place seemed to be a fun place to unwind, very convenient for summer vacation. 

Jumpol was pretty sure he and Tay would like it there. 

Jumpol was still driving, he hadn't seen a house similar to the one in the documents his grandfather had left him. After passing hundreds of meters of yet another wheat field, they finally rode into an area filled with Victorian style homes. The atmosphere shifted a little, maybe since the designs on these houses were not less than a hundred years old, or the fact that it was getting darker by the minute and none of the street lights were working properly. 

Jumpol had thought that spotting the house that had once belonged to his grandfather would be easy. But, it turned out that the sinking sun, and the shades of lush, dense trees were covering the exterior of these houses. Each one looked the same. 

“Have you found it, Peng?” Jumpol asked, still focused on his driving. The car moved slowly. He’d asked Tay to scan the neighborhood for a house with the number 31A. 

“Damn it, Peng. These houses aren’t even in order,” Tay answered, his voice uneasy.

“Huh?” Jumpol said in confusion. He’d been wondering why this area had seemed so deserted. They hadn’t come across anyone yet, except for a few sheeps on the loose, munching on wild greens at the side of the road. 

“See? We just passed by number 3, then number 11. Look, Peng, this one’s number 21,” Tay listed. 

Jumpol decided to stop the engine and pulled over. He glanced at his rear view mirror. A woman was walking behind the road, carrying a basket in her hand. 

“Hey, Peng, that’s someone over there. Let me ask her,” Jumpol said, about to open the door. 

Tay, who’d had a bad feeling since they'd entered the gate of Kippen, immediately blocked Jumpol from getting out. “Wait, Peng,” he said. “Let me check first,” Tay rolled his window down, and stuck his head out. He sighed in relief. 

“Okay, you're right. Go ahead then, ask the lady before you get us both lost,” he said, laughing nervously. Tay had feared that Jumpol had seen a ghost, but he’d guessed wrong.

Jumpol frowned at his best friend. He got out from the driver’s side, walking towards the woman. 

Jumpol hadn't even uttered a greeting, when the middle-aged woman suddenly looked up, surprise coloring her face. “Earl?” she whispered, uncertain. 

“Earl? Uh, no,” Jumpol corrected, “I’m Jumpol. Jumpol Adulkittiporn, from London. I’m looking for my late grandfather’s home…” 

“Adulkittiporn? Oh… yes, of course, My Lord,” the woman smiled, visibly trying to calm herself. 

“My Lord? No… no… Jumpol. Just Jumpol,” he said with no elegance. 

The woman smiled again, sincerely this time. “Of course, Sir Jumpol. Earl Adulkittiporn’s residence is still a long way from here. You need to pass through a few more miles of wheat field before reaching your destination.”

Jumpol knitted his eyebrows. 

“But, you needn’t worry, Sir,” the woman quickly added. “Earl’s is the only house built in that region. It’s the biggest one out of all the houses you've seen, it almost reaches the foothills. I guarantee you won’t get lost. You just have to follow the main road.”

Jumpol let out a relieved breath.

“Thank you, Ma’am. Where do you plan to go? Maybe I can take you there with my car on our way,” Jumpol offered. 

“I’m number 1A, Sir.” 

“Oh?” 

The woman chuckled. She pointed to the house on the right, Jumpol had unintentionally pulled over in front of the house she'd meant. 

“I'm a housekeeper for house number 1A, Sir, no need to take me anywhere else.” 

Jumpol scratched the back of his neck, smiling out of place. He then walked back into his car, once the woman had bidden him farewell and turned to get inside. 

"So?” Tay spun in his seat.

“It’s still a little far. But it’s the only house there. If we follow the main road, we’ll be okay,” Jumpol answered. 

Tay sighed in relief. _Hahhh… thank god_. 

Jumpol smirked, slowly starting his Bentley. 

***

…

_if I touch_

_near the fire_

_the impalpable ash_

_or the wrinkled body of the log,_

_everything carries me to you_

… (1)

**Number 31A, Kippen**

**West Stirlingshire, Scotland**

**End of June, year 2000**

“Damn! It’s not a house, Peng! It’s a mansion!” Tay exclaimed, his eyes wide.

Number 31A was an enormous house with the brightest illumination of all of Kippen. The house stood on a small hill, overlooking the vast plain of grass below. The gate towered over them both, intricate carvings were entwined along the iron bars. Sparks of water could be heard spraying out of the terraced fountain in the middle of the front yard.

The house number 31A was more posh than Jumpol had thought. It made sense if his grandfather had wanted to put it on the House of Lords. Those men of the upper classes wouldn’t have passed a chance to get their hands on a place this pretty.

They were greeted by a middle-aged man who claimed to be Earth Pirapat. He escorted them inside, before disappearing with their luggage at the top of the stairs.

The lighting inside the house was even more blinding. The chandelier lit up elegantly in the center of the room; all the furniture looked old and antique but very well taken care of, evident in how shiny they were. Tay combed the room with his eyes, dumbfounded at his surroundings. It felt as if he was thrown into the aristocratic era centuries ago.

“Ckck… this is insane, Peng. Sometimes I forget that you’re a real noble,” he blurted, still amazed. His previous worries vanished into thin air.

Jumpol didn't even get to respond to his best friend's blabbering as another man in his forties approached them. 

"Earl," the man bowed. "I was terribly worried Earl didn't have the right address. I was told Earl had actually left London since morning, yet Earl was still nowhere to be seen even after sunset. It's a good thing that Earl is alright." 

"Earl?" Jumpol was about to protest, but the man was not finished.

"Oh, how careless of me, I haven't even introduced myself. I am Mike Chinnarat, the butler. Earl must be so tired, no? Let me take you to your room. I had prepared separate chambers for both Earl, and Sir..." Chinnarat waited for Tay in question.

"Tay. Tay Tawan," Tay said, stretching his hand towards the man. 

"Welcome, Sir Tay," Chinnarat greeted, shaking the offered hand. "Come, let me bring Earl and Sir Tay to your rooms. I will get the bath ready. Dinner will be served in an hour." 

The man quickly climbed up the stairs. Jumpol and Tay gave in and followed closely. Their bedrooms were across from each other on the second floor. Tay, who was first introduced to the one on the right side of the hallway, said his half-hearted goodbye to Jumpol before running inside. He couldn't wait to lie down, picturing himself being soaked in hot rejuvenating water. 

Chinnarat moved to the room on the left. He pushed open the door, letting Jumpol in. 

"Go ahead, My Lord. I will be preparing the hot water." 

Jumpol didn't even get a chance to refuse since the man was already rushing out to the bathroom.

His room was quite large. A king-sized bed on one side, a lengthy red sofa, and a desk by the window. Jumpol walked towards the bookshelf in front of the sofa. A painting was hung beside it; a canvas, which looked like it was a painting of Kippen, flanked by two hills: Gargunnock and Fintry. He ran his fingers on the illustrated view, a strange sense of longing enveloping him.

"I have prepared the bath for Sir Tay," he said suddenly, the butler had just gotten out of the bathroom. "Rest well, Earl," he continued, closing the door.

"Jumpol," Jumpol demanded. 

Chinnarat stopped in his tracks, and spinned to face his employer. 

"Yes, My Lord?" he asked, confusion on his face.

"Just use Jumpol," Jumpol said, crossing his arms. 

The butler fell silent, considering. Then he smiled, bowing his head. "Goodnight, Earl," he replied steadily, and was quickly out of the room. 

Jumpol clicked his tongue, staring bitterly at his back. 

***

"I don't understand why your grandfather would drop his title, Peng," Tay started as they stepped off the staircase, walking down to the dining table. “I heard with aristocracy, comes numerous privileges. I mean, look at this, they’re treating us like we’re kings.”

“Where did you hear that?”

“Well, sometimes my mum and dad talk about these things,” Tay scratched the back of his neck. “If I were your grandfather, I would’ve desperately saved all of this,” he continued, arms stretched.

“Maybe that’s why you were born a commoner, Peng. You nourish the rapacious seed within you,” Jumpol quipped.

“Piss off.”

They were met with an abundance of heavenly scents as they got closer to the dining table. Laid out in front of them, were plates of appetizing foods, neatly in order. A basket of berries had been prepared to accompany the cullen skink, the scotch broth, the kedgeree, the rumbledethumps, and the crema catalana for dessert. Tay almost caught himself drooling. 

"Here, My Lord." Chinnarat dragged the only chair at the end of the table. Inviting Jumpol to sit on it on the head. 

"Jumpol," Jumpol corrected, still stubborn, and seated himself. Tay was free to sit at the left side of the table. 

Chinnarat didn't speak any further, ignoring Jumpol's protest. He spun to Tay, pouring a drink for his master's best friend.

A chef, another middle-aged man, then shuffled towards him after he finished arranging the plates. He stood at his side. "Good evening, My Lord. I am White Nawat, the cook, glad to be of service,” he said, introducing himself as he poured a dark colored liquid into Jumpol’s glass.

“Can't you call me with just, Jumpol?”

The chef tensed up, eyes contemplative, and smiled amiably.

“I’m afraid not, My Lord. I’m sorry.”

Jumpol watched him with sharp eyes. He could hear his best friend’s suppressed chuckle. _Damn you, Tay._

“Ekhm… the house is so empty. You guys are the only ones in here?” Tay cleared his throat, trying to calm his laughter and change the topic.

“Yes, Sir,” Chinnarat smiled. “It’s only me, Nawat, and Pirapat.” 

Jumpol raised an eyebrow. “In a place this big? Grandpa only hired the three of you?” It was impossible for three old men to take care of this giant mansion alone. 

Chinnarat shook his head. “There are ten other servants, Earl, but all of them work part-time. They would come before breakfast and leave after four in the afternoon. The rest are just us,” the butler clarified. 

Jumpol nodded, catching on. He stared at Tay who was already looking impatient to devour everything. 

“Well, if that is all then, enjoy the dinner, Earl--” 

“Jumpol.” 

“--and Sir Tay. After this, you may go and rest. We can chat more in the morning,” Chinnarat continued, unbothered by Jumpol’s interruption. 

Both of the men bowed in unison, walking away to the other room.

Tay assumed it was a sign to start on the meal. His eyes twinkled as he reached for the scotch broth. The soup which had the combination of lamb shanks, various vegetables, and dried peas was mouthwatering to say the least. But he paused when he heard Jumpol speak next. 

“Where are you two going?” Jumpol asked. 

The two halted in their tracks, turning around to face Jumpol. 

“Leaving Earl and Sir Tay to your dinner?” Chinnarat answered timidly. 

“Jumpol,” Jumpol corrected. He rubbed at his temples. 

Jumpol stood up, he drew the other three chairs at the right side of the table, right in front of Tay. Tay smiled at his intentions. 

“We both can’t possibly finish these by ourselves,” Jumpol said. “Why don’t we all eat here, together?”

Both of the men stared at one another, hesitant to move. 

Jumpol sighed. “Get Mr. Pirapat. The three of you are having dinner at this table,” Jumpol ordered, walking back to his own seat. 

“Yes, My Lord.” Chinnarat bowed. He disappeared into the kitchen and came back with Pirapat beside him. The three manservants sat in awkward silence, reluctant to eat anything. 

Tay grinned in amusement. He started ladling some of the scotch broth into his bowl. That soup was as delightful as it'd smelled. 

The five of them began the meal without so much of a word. Jumpol glanced at his glass, the dark liquid in it piqued his curiosity. He twirled the glass around, sniffing the liquid, and was startled at the sweet yet unfamiliar scent coming off of it. 

“What is this?” Jumpol asked Nawat.

The chef averted his gaze to the glass in Jumpol’s hand. “Sugarelly, My Lord--” 

Jumpol’s ears burned hot, it seemed they weren't finished with the honorifics. But he chose to reign in his irritation this time and not say anything. 

“--a traditional drink, made out of liquorice.” 

Moving the glass closer to his lips, Jumpol sipped a little of the liquid. 

“Hmm… it tastes unusual,” he said while smacking his tongue. “But it’s not bad,” he added quickly. 

Jumpol was about to place the glass back on the table, but he paused mid-air. His eyes slithered towards the closed kitchen's entrance.

“Is that your son?” Jumpol asked, pointing at the kitchen. “Why didn’t you say your son’s visiting? Tell him to join us.”

The three men simultaneously turned their heads to the direction. They froze in their seats. 

“Earl,” Chinnarat tried to squeak out. 

“Hey, come here you!” Jumpol exclaimed, waving his hands. 

“Earl,” Chinnarat attempted again. 

Jumpol stared back at him in question. 

“My Lord.” Chinnarat looked straight at him. “The five of us are the only ones in the house tonight,” he continued carefully.

Jumpol sat still. 

Tay immediately raised his gaze from the plate. Following everyone's eyes to the closed kitchen door. 

Nobody was there. 

"Shit, Peng!" Tay shrieked. His body stiffened, his body hair bristling all over.

Jumpol fixed his eyes, unmoving. His hand was still gripping a glass of liquorice.

At the end of the room, Jumpol watched as a teenage boy stood anchored in front of the kitchen door. He was wearing a black frock coat that looked way out of style, a top hat on his head, and a walking cane. He returned Jumpol's gaze in a beat, before turning around and vanishing through the very solid door behind him. 

_…as if everything that exists,_

_aromas, light, metals,_

_were little boats_

_that sail_

_toward those isles of yours that wait for me… (1)_

" _Shit_ ," he said to himself. " _Here we go again_." 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (1). If You Forget Me (1952), a poem by Pablo Neruda.
> 
> the thought of using Sir Tay is just so weird to me, i kept going back and forth using "Sir" and "Mr." and ended up with "Sir" bc the author for some reason gave me permission to do whatever i want, sorry.
> 
> again, if you made it this far, thank you for reading, i appreaciate it <3


	4. O, Star-Gazing Aster (Part 1)

**Number 31A, Kippen**

**West Stirlingshire, Scotland**

**End of June, year 2000**

After rushing through their very awkward dinner, Jumpol and Tay finally retreated to their rooms upstairs. They seriously needed sleep. Chinnarat did mention that Dararat had told him on the phone something like this might happen. His mother had even asked to be notified if, by any chance, Jumpol made contact with his great grandfather and requested some assistance. Chinnarat told Jumpol to not hesitate to come forth if the situation got out of hand.

"There's a church at the foot of the hills, My Lord. I know a pastor that can help," Chinnarat said, sympathy heavy in his voice, before leaving Jumpol and Tay alone in the corridor. Jumpol nodded wordlessly, too lazy to argue. 

"Goodnight, Tay," Jumpol said, a hand on the handle to his door. 

"Hey, hey…Wait, Peng," Tay rambled, blocking Jumpol from abandoning him in the hallway.

"What?"

"Uhhh, about that, Peng," Tay threw his gaze at every direction but his eyes, scratching his head aggressively. 

"What is it? Speak quickly, I want to sleep." 

Tay inched closer, whispering gently. "Is the ghost still here?" 

Jumpol stiffened. Right now his back was actually really cold, it was almost unbearable. But he shook his head. Not wanting to freak his best friend even more.

"No, Peng. I don't see him anymore."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes, Tay. What is with you anyway? You're not normally spooked like this."

Tay stared at Jumpol in disbelief. "Look at this house, Peng," Tay said, his hands spread wide. "This hallway, our rooms, that staircase, everything. We're like trapped in a horror movie!" he cried agitatedly.

"Please, Tay," Jumpol rolled his eyeballs. "Weren't you the one worshipping this place up and down just a few hours ago? _Damn! It's not a house, Peng, it's a mansion!_ " he mimicked. 

"Yes, but that was earlier, Peng, before… before you saw… Argghh, the point is--" 

"Tay Tawan, listen to me, I’m the only one that can see them. Besides, did you forget? Ghosts can't even touch a thing." 

The nailed painting on the wall slid crookedly. 

"Peeeengggg!" Tay clung onto his best friend's arm, his face pitiful. "Let me sleep in your room? Please, please, Peng. Please, let's just sleep in your room, okay?" he continued begging.

Jumpol massaged his temples. His back was getting closer to frozen solid by now. He wanted to be honest with Tay about it, but he wasn't ready to see his best friend completely losing it in the middle of the night.

"Tay Tawan Vihokratana, listen." Jumpol shook his best friend by the shoulders. "You know what happens when I see a ghost?" 

Tay pondered. "It asks for your help?" he said, unsure. 

"Right, and what happens if I can't give them what they want?" Jumpol asked again. 

"Huh? What is this, Peng, why are you asking these questions?"

Jumpol's head tightened. "Just answer, Tay."

"I don't know. The ghost will follow you wherever you go?"

Jumpol glared. Tay looked back in confusion. 

"Damn it, Tay… Yes, they will follow me everywhere. So even if we sleep in the same room, the ghost will also be _with_ me. Now, if you sleep in your own room, it--" 

"Goodnight, Peng!" Tay scurried inside his own bedroom and slammed the door shut. Jumpol shook his head at his best friend's antics.

***

Jumpol snapped the lock back to his room door gently. He turned around, made a sprint towards the bed, hopped onto it, and quickly pulled the covers up to his chin. 

“For god’s sake, you are _cold_ ,” Jumpol complained at the figure of a young man floating at the side of his bed. 

Jumpol scooted to the middle of the bed. The young man followed.

“No no no, stop right there!” He stretched his finger in warning. 

“Go over there,” Jumpol urged, pointing to the center of the room. The ghost didn’t seem to want to budge at first, but he eventually floated away. 

“Further,” Jumpol demanded. The ghost obliged. 

“More... further to the back.”

The ghost curled his lips. But he still did it nonetheless. 

And as the distance between them grew, he could finally feel his body heat coming back gradually. 

“Okay,” Jumpol started, after he let go of the blanket. “Rule number 1, never float behind me again, alright? Gosh...you almost froze my back."

The ghost frowned again, displeased.

“No, don’t give me that face. You’re really cold, you know. You can follow me, fly around and everything, just not too close. Fine with you?”

The ghost did a half-hearted nod.

“Very well," Jumpol said, bringing his palms together.

“So…you still move through things, but you're also able to touch solid objects? Interesting, I’ve never met one like you before. But... the second rule: don’t ever do anything like that again, moving paintings, dropping stuff, just don’t scare my best friend away, understood?”

Now the ghost nodded eagerly. Jumpol was amused.

“By the way, we haven’t introduced ourselves. I’m Jumpol,” Jumpol said, pointing to himself.

The ghost didn’t reply, tilting his head instead. Confusion written on his face.

“Jumpol,” Jumpol repeated.

The ghost looked distracted, his eyes suddenly fell sombre. He shook his head. 

“Jum. Pol,” Jumpol spelled. “My name is Jumpol. Do you understand?” 

He shook his head again, sterner this time.

Jumpol stared, puzzled. “Aishh... suit yourself. But call me Jumpol. Just Jumpol. Not Earl, not My Lord, not whatever. What’s your name?”

He was still miles away, eyes glistening. He continued shaking his head weakly. 

Jumpol gasped. The figure in front of him looked like he was struggling to not burst into tears. He shifted to the end of the bed, suddenly feeling bad in the chest.

“Hey, what’s wrong? Are you okay? Can’t you talk?” Jumpol tried to get close, but decided against it when the cold air brushed his skin.

The figure shook his head again. 

“Wait, wait... does that mean ‘you can talk’ or ‘no, you can’t talk’?” Jumpol asked again, impatient. 

But the ghost would only stare back in defeat. Tears ran down his cheek as he cried soundlessly.

Jumpol jolted straight, his feet fast on the carpet. He approached him through the cold, asking himself if he’d accidentally said something hurtful.

“Hey…” Jumpol didn’t know exactly what to say to console a dead person. He’d never been in this situation before.

The ghost took off his top hat. His gaze was veiled with pain. He held his hat and his cane close to him.

Jumpol could hear a whisper of a sob escaping his lips, before the figure unceremoniously vanished into the air.

Warm wind encompassed him, filling the sockets of the room.

Huh?

Jumpol hung his mouth open.

No, that can’t be the end of it.

Jumpol had thought that this case couldn’t be as hard as Gunsmile’s. The young ghost was probably his age or perhaps even younger. He was finely dressed. Nothing gruesome on the surface except for his cold pale skin. Jumpol had figured it would be a simple task, or at least, if it was impossible to satisfy his wishes, the boy wouldn't frighten him as much if he crept around the house. He might even go as far as saying he was quite adorable.

But Jumpol was wrong. This wasn’t simple at all. Other than literally being frozen to death, he wouldn’t speak to him either. And, Jumpol felt he’d ruined everything, even before they told each other their names.

“Argghh... fuck it,” Jumpol cursed. He flopped down the bed. Burying himself under the covers, he chose to surrender to sleep.

***

_…_

_Though lovers be lost love shall not;_

_And death shall have no dominion._

_… (1)_

**Nomor 1A, Kippen**

**West Stirlingshire, Scotland**

**The Spring Ball, 1898**

Gun Atthaphan Phunsawat screamed in agony, breaths squeaking as he caught some air into his throat.

“Remind me again why I’m doing this?!” he let out through a muffled shriek. He wanted to puke.

Godji pulled on his corset as strong as she could.

“Why do women choose to wear this? Have they all gone mad? Godji!” Gun screeched again. Godji tugged on the last knot, before turning her master’s body around. She silently admired her own work.

“This isn’t a gown, this is hell,” Gun tried to breathe deeply.

Godji rolled her eyes. “You shouldn’t exaggerate, My Lord. I think you look exceptionally ravishing.”

“I’m supposed to look handsome, Godji,” Gun said flatly.

“Say,” Gun practiced breathing normally. The contraptions around him felt as if they were rushing to deflate his lungs altogether. “Why must I do this? Why can’t we move along with plan A?”

Godji, who busied herself with brushing the false hazel hair, stared at him confusedly. “Is this not plan A, My Lord?”

Gun gaped at Godji as if his maid was out of her mind. “What do you mean, Godji? Do you honestly think I would’ve happily offered to play pretend as a woman, to wear this cursed object that would sooner kill me with its deathly grip?”

Pim watched him in boredom. She set her earl grey down on the table. 

“I wish you won't overreact like that, brother. I wear it everyday, and I survive, remarkably.”

Gun glared, “Pim.”

“Brother,” Pim returned his gaze, challenging.

Godji brought the hazel-colored wig to Gun. Gun pleaded. “Do I really have to? Suppose my hair gets itchy?”

Godji smiled, “It will not, My Lord.”

Gun sighed defeatedly. Godji attached the hazel cascade of hair on top of his head, and started braiding the strands. “So this is plan B then, My Lord?” 

“Plan C,” Gun answered firmly, “Plan A is Pim pretending to be sick so she can stay in the mansion, while I go to the ball as myself. Plan B--” 

“I pretend to be you and go to the ball, while you be me and stay here instead,” Pim interrupted. “Which does not make sense, at all. Haven’t you made it your utmost priority to protect me?”

Gun scoffed.

“Or... “ Godji put the cocktail hat on him, adorning the wig which each lock had been beautifully woven into plaits. 

“Both of you arrive at the party normally. Didn’t Earl Adulkittiporn invite all of the family members of Viscount Phunsawat? Perhaps Earl would take it offense if one of you were to bail.”

Pim sighed. 

“Well, Godji was not false, there. Besides, what unimaginable horrors can possibly arise? Maybe someone will propose to me. I heard Baron Wanchana Sawasdee is looking for a new wife. Although, there is that nasty rumour saying he _unintentionally_ played a hand in the death of the previous two wives, but that couldn’t have been true, could it? Baron Wanchana isn’t even that old, he’s holding his fiftieth birthday next we--”

Gun’s blood boiled high. He released himself from Godji, hobbling and hauling the skirt of his dress towards his sister, who was sipping on her afternoon tea by the window. “Not one more word, Pim. That man will not lay a hand on you. You stay in the mansion, I’ll take care of those bastards.”

Pim’s eyes glimmered in the sun. 

Gun turned around, back to Godji. He stretched out his right leg. “Godji, help me put my shoes on. I have to look pretty.”

“Yes, My Lord.” 

Godji winked her eye at Pim’s direction. Gun’s twin sister raised her cup of earl grey, feigning nonchalance as she smiled. Mission completed.

***

It had been a month since Viscount Phunsawat decided to pack up and leave their home in Edinburgh to reside at their rest house in Kippen. The city had started to feel rather cramped for all of them. The harbour was packed with the continuous stream of barbaric foreigners from neighbouring lands. His wife and twin children had agreed to start over somewhere quieter. Even so, he still needed to ride back a few times a month to Edinburgh for work.

The Phunsawat family had been running a widely renowned fashion business in Scotland. Almost everyone of the upper class had at least worn one of their top quality garments.

So far the charming, little family had been settling in well in Kippen; a small town, led by a very reputable Earl, owner of a winery with 5.000 square feet worth of vineyard, the Adulkittiporns. As far as Viscount Phunsawat was concerned, all the people loved their Earl dearly. How could they not, everyone who worked at the vineyard had always received a handsome amount of wage, and the estate-hunting lords were made to pay a very reasonable number of tax. Like aristocrats in general, there were often those of the lower ranks, such as Barons, or even Viscounts, who would be more than happy to lick their own heels for a connection to the Earl.

What was most exasperating for the Phunsawat family, mainly their eldest son, those conservative lords with arbitrary minds, as they kept infallibly deeming having twins to be a curse. They didn’t even bother to look over their backs as they whispered around this supposed misfortune, yet some Barons still had the cheek to court his sister. All for position. 

The five ranks of the English peerage, from highest to lowest, were Duke, Marquess, Earl, Viscount, and Baron. The last title often could not be inherited by the next descendant, it disappears when the family involved passed away. Perhaps that was one of the reasons why they would justify any means to stay a noble, including marrying a woman of a higher rank, no matter how improperly they achieved it.

***

Two horses pulled the Phunsawat carriage through the vineyard as the sky dimmed to black. Earl Adulkittiporn’s mansion rose in the distance, at a small hill near the foot of Gargunnock Hills. From where they were sitting, the mansion lit up brilliantly, standing beneath the twinkles of millions of stars. 

They were on their way to the spring ball; an annual party that the Earl organized to welcome the new change of season.

Gun straightened his posture uncomfortably in the carriage.

“What's the matter, Pim?” His mother frowned in worry. His father was preoccupied with his pocket watch, calculating at what time in which they would arrive at the Earl’s residence.

Gun cleared his throat a little, adjusting his voice. “I think Godji made my corset too tight.”

“Oh, don’t kid, my dear. Nothing is wrong with your dress. You’re the very picture of beauty. Aren’t I right, darling?” Viscountess Phunsawat turned to her husband.

Gun’s father returned the watch to his pocket, nodding to her question. “You look even more beautiful than usual, Pim. I will be having the most terrible time driving away all of your suitors.” 

Gun’s mother spontaneously slapped her husband’s thigh. “Don’t frighten her with such ideas. Wouldn’t it be wonderful if somebody were to propose?”

“Our daughter is only sixteen, my darling,” he replied, rubbing the spot on where his wife’s hand had been. He shifted in his seat to look at Gun, “And why does your brother claim to be sick all of a sudden?”

“Ah that,” Gun tried to calm his breathing. “He accidentally splashed some milk into his tea.”

“Accidental milk?” Gun’s mother frowned. “Gun knows he can’t have dairy, how could he be so careless?”

Gun’s chuckle was a sharp one.

The twins had decided to carry on with the plan in order to protect Pim from the ill-mannered, shameless bachelors at the ball, and at the same time, save their parents some face who’d initially wanted to introduce her to the Earl’s family. But as of now, Gun had never felt more tricked by his own con.

_This is for Pim’s sake! For Pim!_ he rambled on in his mind. _But this corset is so tight, I feel I’m going to die._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (1) And Death Shall Have no Dominion by Dylan Thomas.
> 
> living for sassy Pim, thank you for reading, btw<3


	5. O, Star-Gazing Aster (Part 2)

**Number 31A, Kippen**

**West Stirlingshire, Scotland**

**The Spring Ball, 1898**

“My Lady.”

A footman offered his hand to help him get out of the carriage. Gun waited but accepted it, quickly following his parents under Earl Adulkittiporn’s front door. 

Strings of melodies have blended in with the white noise of chatter and fitful laughters, also clinks of glasses, high and low over the dance floor. The buzz and clamor weakened temporarily as the guard finished announcing their arrival. Tens of eyes were set on the Phunsawat family then, hiding different meanings behind each pair. Gun blew out his distress, hoping he didn’t look as tense as he felt. 

“Viscount Phunsawat!”

Baron Wanchana Sawasdee cheered through the crowd. He dropped his glass to one of the servants, and began to approach them in high eagerness.

Baron Wanchana said his greetings to his father, kissed the fingers on his mother’s, and then it was Gun’s turn. “You look particularly lovely, My Lady,” he said.

Gun pinched on both of the sides of his gown, courteously bending his knees. “Good evening, My Lord,” Gun greeted as he tried to twist a smile. _Prick_

“Ah, My Lady, it would forever be an honour of mine to dance with you beneath tonight’s moonlight, if you’d allow it,” the middle-aged man asked, his palm open. Gun stared at the offered hand, resisting the urge to spit on it.

“I apologize for my rudeness, My Lord. But we really must see Earl and Countess Adulkittiporn at once. My daughter is to be introduced,” Gun’s father interrupted, his face smooth as a stone. He turned on his heels and left.

Gun followed his parents without another word. His blood was boiling, but he succeeded in suppressing the bile from coming up his throat.

***

Earl and Countess Adulkittiporn had borne an 18 year-old son, Off Adulkittiporn. And not just a mere son of an Earl, he was also a charming and a clever young man. It wasn’t surprising that the ladies of Kippen worshipped him. Almost everyone in the party had been pacing back and forth, nodding their heads up to the balcony on the second floor, asking themselves whether or not the Earl’s son was ever going to come down for a dance. Off and his two close friends, Krist and Singto, were still content with their wine, watching the guests scrambling around from up there.

“Isn’t that Viscount Phunsawat’s daughter?”

Off asked, pointing towards the girl in the middle of the Phunsawat family who was busy chatting with his parents.

“Heavens! She’s even more beautiful than the last time we saw her, Earl Off.” Krist, the son of Viscount Sangpotirat, clicking his tongue in admiration while twisting the glass in his hand.

“Where did you meet her?”

Krist gulped down his wine, turning to face Sigto, son of Viscount Ruangroj. “In my shop, a week ago. Viscountess Pim was with her brother when he came to get the cane he’d ordered.”

“But, Pim Phunsawat seems a little... odd,” Off narrowed his lids. The girl was indeed a little different, slightly uncomfortable, as if not used to wearing dresses--Oh! He smirked suddenly. He put his wine glass down, and sprinted for the stairs in an instant.

“Where are you off to, Earl Off?” Krist yelled.

“Asking my girl for a dance!” 

“Ck! He’s such a nuisance. He gets all the women in the town in one sweep,” Krist grumbled.

Singto sighed, understanding, used to this behaviour anyway. He chose to raise his glass, twirling his wine for a moment. 

“Well, it leaves the two of us.” He glanced at Krist, raising his glass high. “Care for a drunken adventure with me tonight, Viscount Krist?”

Krist stared at the man beside him, then smirked and followed to raise his wine glass as well. “Count me in,” Krist said, winking an eye.

Their glasses clinked, mingling with gradually increasing commotion.

***

Off watched as Baron Wanchana sauntered over to the Phunsawat family as they finished exchanging pleasantries with his parents. The son of Earl Adullkittiporn fastened his steps down the last staircase.

“Good evening, Viscount Phunsawat... My Lady,” Off bowed his head. “I haven’t seen your son around here.”

“Ah... about that," Viscount Phunsawat chuckled awkwardly. “I’m afraid our son is feeling a little under the weather, My Lord. We’ve told him to rest at home.” 

“Oohh… well, it’s very unfortunate,” Off sighed. “But, will you please ask him to join us in a shoot? Father is having his next hunting party in about a week.” 

Gun’s father looked nervous. “I’m sorry, Earl Off. But my son is not notably skilled with a gun.”

Off raised an eyebrow, “Aaahh…” he turned to Gun. “Won’t be a matter soon enough. _We_ can learn how to shoot together,” he said, with a smile so sweet.

Gun’s father nodded in agreement to Off’s invitation. 

“Very well, I will tell father to make arrangements for you and your son then.” Off grinned, and once again he glanced at Gun. “Viscount Phunsawat... may I have a dance with your daughter?”

The three Phunsawats gaped open. Gun’s father cleared his throat. It had been his intention to introduce his daughter to the Earl’s family, but he would never pressure her to become familiar with the Adulkittiporn’s only son so soon. Gun’s father dared to bet almost all the women in the room awaited for the chance to dance with Off. But instead, the Earl’s son chose to set his eyes on his daughter. What fun. 

“If my daughter grants it, Earl Off,” Gun’s father answered appropriately.

Off inched closer to Gun, whispering lowly in his ear, “Two o’clock. Baron Wanchana Sawasdee.” He took a step back, flashing a smile.

Gun widened his eyes, quickly checking the right corner of his vision. He saw the middle-aged man struggling to cut through the crowd, approaching closer to them. The choice was either the fossil or the handsome young man in front of him. Both were terrible. Gun swallowed, his head muddled.

Off straightened his stance. He hid his left hand behind him, and stretched out his right. “Shall we dance, My Lady?” 

Gun looked at his father who nodded succinctly. He took the hand in hesitation, walking together with Off to the center of the dance floor. Trying his hardest to calm the pounding against his ribcage.

They bowed and dropped into a curtsy. Off took a step closer, latching his palm to Gun’s waist, La Valse de L’Amour filling the room. (1) 

Gun almost tripped as they danced. He could sense how the crowd just suddenly dimmed, busy noises fading away and disappearing, could feel hundreds of eyes fixating on them. His heart throbbed painfully. _Tell me again why I’m doing this?_ Gun screamed inside.

_Ack!_ Gun’s right foot accidentally stepped Off’s left. He looked up in panic, face no doubt filled with remorse. _Damn it!_ Gun forgot, he didn’t know how women dance. 

“I’m terribly sorry, Earl... I-” 

“Shhh... Don’t stop.” Off reached for Gun’s left hand, inching closer to the beautiful man in front of him, tightening the grip around his waist again.

“Leave it to me, My Lord. Let me lead. Just follow what I do, stop thinking so much.” 

Gun scanned his face again, and nodded nervously. “Umm... alright.” He moved with his eyes to the floor, afraid he’d stepped on his dance partner’s shoe again.

Eh, wait a second.

“What did you just call me, Earl Off?”

Off giggled. “My Lord? No need to be ashamed, My Lord. A few people I’m acquainted with, in fact, have the similar fashion fetish as you.”

_Fetish?_ Gun fumed. He looked up, sharply staring at that smug grin. What an insolent brat.

“I don’t understand what you’re saying, My Lord. It’s disrespectful to associate me with that word, is it not?”

Off held his laughter. He made Gun spin twice, before pulling at his left arm, causing him to fall back against his chest. “Viscount, despite being twins with your sister, there is one thing that tells you apart from her.”

Gun shook his head. “I can’t follow where this conversation is heading at all, Earl Off. I would like to stop dancing.” 

“Shhh... it’s not polite to leave in the middle of the song, My Lord.” Off raised the young man to the air, then slowly setting him down to the floor again. He could hear the thunderous applause from the circle around them. “Your eyes.” 

“What’s with my eyes?” 

“Like almost all of Britain’s aristocrats, your sister’s eyes display strength and dominance.” 

“You mean I--” Gun shook his head. “Do you mean my brother looks weak? “ he asked in disbelief.

Off laughed, “Don’t misunderstand yourself, My Lord. It’s more than that, your eyes shine splendidly. As if you stole all the stars in the sky, and confine every single one in there.”

Gun stared, speechless. 

What did this mad boy want with him? 

He spun twice again, before reaching for his waist, forcing them to dance uncomfortably close. 

_“Star-gazing Aster, would I were the skies; to gaze upon thee with a thousand eyes.” (2)_

“What is that?” Gun glared. 

“Plato’s Epigram. Do you not read Latin?” Off answered, smiling while deeply staring into his eyes.

“Are you flirting with me, Earl?” 

Off smirked, “Is it working?” 

Gun huffed a breath, unbelieving. This man is insane. “Can we stop chatting and just get on with the dancing, please?” The Earl’s son was causing him too much of a headache. 

“Oh, it doesn’t work then. All the other girls like it, though.” Off whispered, pretending to be discouraged.

“I’m not a girl!” 

Gun gasped. 

“I mean Earl--” 

Hell, he set him up. 

Off chuckled in victory. “Yes, My Lord, I’m aware.” 

_This cannot be real._ Gun felt warmth creeping to his cheeks.

Gun twirled in his arms once more. Off grasped at his hand, letting half of Gun’s upper body fall to the floor, holding up his waist securely. Then, the music ended.

They took a step back, putting distance between them. 

“Thank you, My Lady, that was entertaining,” Off crossed his hand in front of his chest, bowing down. 

Gun pinched his dress and bent his knees in a curtsy, hoping the dance floor would just swallow him up already. 

“See you at the hunting party, My Lord,” Off whispered. The Earl’s son started to walk away, but halted at the last second. “Oh, one more thing,” Off turned to him.

"Those were not what made me recognize you, My Lord. I couldn’t have seen your eyes from up there,” he said while pointing to the second floor. 

Off was close to his ears in two strides. “I think your maid was too eager with your corset, Gun Atthaphan.” 

Off removed himself from him, bowing again, and smirked away. 

_Ajfhskjfhdshdkfkdsgg!_

Gun was incredibly sure his face was beet red, warmth aggressively coursing through his body. He really wanted to slap that grin across his face. _Damn it!!!_

Gun bolted from the dance floor, approaching one of the footmen and snagging a glass of wine. He finished it in one gulp, ignoring the roar of applause that once again echoed against the walls.

***

**Number 31A, Kippen**

**West Stirlingshire, Scotland**

**End of June, 2000**

“Yes, Mum. We just finished breakfast.”

Jumpol tightened his grip on the phone handle. His eyes swept over the room, watching the maids pace up and down the floors. Chinnarat was with Tay, giving a tour of the house. His best friend couldn’t seem to hide his excitement as he snapped every corner of the mansion 31A. No trace of last night’s panic in sight.

“So... did you meet your great grandpapa?” his mother’s voice on the other line sounded worried.

“Mr. Chinnarat told you?” 

Dararat fell silent for a moment. “Why did you address him with _Mister_ , Jumpol?” 

Jumpol sighed, suddenly feeling tired. “They’re the same age as dad, Mum. Besides, everyone can’t stop calling Earl, or My Lord, it’s really annoying.”

“Well, what do you want to be called?” 

“Jumpol?” 

Dararat scoffed. “Of course they can’t, Jumpol. It’s not proper. And you’ve never acted that way anyway with the people at home.” 

“But Mum, I’m not even Earl--” 

“Ah, forget it. So, have you met your great grandfather?” his mother asked again.

Jumpol turned his head to look around, he hadn’t seen the ghost all morning. “Obviously not my great grandfather.”

“Are you sure?” 

“Mum, he’s a kid. Probably my age, or even younger? Did grandpa or great grandpa ever had a relative that died that young?” 

“Hmm... I can’t be certain. But, as far as I know, all of them were the only children of their generations. Why don’t you just ask him?” 

Jumpol frowned, headache piercing in remembering the conversation he had last night. 

“He doesn’t want to talk to me,” he grumbled. 

“Huh? Why not? So he didn’t ask anything of you?” 

“I don’t know, Mum.” 

Jumpol placed the handle to his right hand. That was the moment he saw the figure of a teenager wearing a frock coat, a top hat, with a cane attached to his side, floating on the second floor. 

“Mum, I’ve gotta go. I’ll call you later. There’s something I have to do,” Jumpol sputtered out. 

“Wait, Jumpol? I’m not done talking. Jumpol!” 

Jumpol replaced the handle back carelessly, running through the hallway to his bedroom. 

***

“Hey….” Jumpol tried to call. 

The teenage ghost looked back for a second, but continued to fly away.

“Still won’t talk to me?” Jumpol followed calmly, putting a distance between the unrelenting cold and himself as much as possible.

The ghost was quiet, opted to fly to the colorful stained glass at the end of the hall. He stopped right there, turning his back to face Jumpol. His eyes were still brimming with sadness. If he wasn’t already dead, Jumpol would think he had cried all night. 

“Hey…” Jumpol tried again. “How can I help you if you don’t say anything? Hm?” 

The ghost took off his top hat, holding the hat and his cane close to his chest. Then he disappeared, fading through the ceiling right above him. 

“Wh--Oi! Stop avoiding me, goddamn it!” 

Jumpol ran a hand through his hair. Why would he break a sweat meddling in dead people’s matters who seemed to want anything but, anyway. This was annoying as hell. He moved away from the stained glass, was going to look for Tay instead.

_Wait. But, why did he go up?_

Jumpol turned around again, running to the window. His hands explored the smooth walls, looking for something. Anything. _Maybe, maybe there’s a secret passage here or whatever_ , he rambled in his head. 

He traced over the surface, taking down a few paintings and checking behind the canvases. He’d almost given up, until Jumpol finally found something. His palm felt a sort-of button, hidden by the wallpaper. He ripped the paper open, and with a thundering heart, pushed it. 

Jumpol was mesmerized. A ladder fell from the ceiling, it looked like an access to the attic. He threw a careful glance behind him. It didn’t seem like a maid was around. 

Jumpol made up his mind, and started to climb up. 

The attic was quite spacious, but covered in an inch or two layer of dust. Some of the things were stacked high, white sheets laid over them. Jumpol coughed.

The ghost stood levitated, his back to a window that was covered with ivory yellow curtains, staring at a frame. Perhaps a painting. 

“Hey, what are you looking at?” Jumpol wanted to step closer, but decided against it when he realized how cold he was getting. 

“Talk to me, hey.” Jumpol flitted his gaze towards the tower of dust and spider webs cascading from the top. “I’m tired of calling you hey.” 

The ghost only gave him a brief glance, then back to mooning over whatever he was looking at. 

Ck! He ran out of patience. 

He walked over to the ghost, letting the surge of cold cut to his skin.

“What are you staring at anyway?” he asked.

Jumpol turned his head, facing the big frame placed at the corner of the room. He stood side by side with the ghost, ignoring the freezing sensation enclosing him by the second.

It wasn’t a painting, more of a portrait. A really big, body portrait. 

A man, maybe in his twenties, stood straight wearing a steampunk coat that fell almost to his knees, holding a walking cane. 

Jumpol couldn’t move. 

He released his gaze from the portrait to the ghost beside him, then returned to it again. Making sure the face in the portrait was really a reflection of Jumpol’s own face.

“Who?” Jumpol breathed. 

The attic was suffocating him even more. His voice was stuck in his throat as he coughed shortly. 

The ghost floated closer. He rested his head on Jumpol’s left shoulder. The cold felt worse now, but he let it. The ghost pointed to the bottom of the portrait with his cane, showing him the cursive letters ingrained on the canvas, the white ink stained with age. 

**[Earl Off Adulkittiporn, 1900]**

“Off?” The ghost beside him whispered softly.

Jumpol turned to look at him. The ghost raised his head, staring back at him right in the eyes. Through the rumbles of sobs that escaped him, the voice somehow still sounded melodic. 

There was something hypnotizing to his voice. Something that made Jumpol feel like he had to cradle that face in his hands, to wipe away the tears that slid off his cheeks one by one. But Jumpol remained still. 

“Gun misses you….” 

Jumpol snapped his head back to the portrait, then back to the sorrowful eyes in front of him. For some unknown reason, he had the strangest urge to start crying too. To unleash this emotion he couldn’t comprehend. 

“Misses you so much….” 

The air was getting heavier, Jumpol coughed again. He was starting to have difficulties getting air into his lungs. 

“Off?” 

Jumpol gasped. He quickly backed away, hands aimlessly pulling at the yellow curtains behind to open them. With great effort he finally managed to open the wide, large window. He pushed it out with a painful _‘Drakk!’_ sound to their ears.

Jumpol leaned his head out, coughing his throat, filling it desperately with air. 

“Earl!!!” Pirapat, who was in the middle of cutting the hedges of the front yard, yelled in worry from under the window.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (1) La Valse de L’Amour, composed by Patrick Doyle, from the dancing scene of Cinderella (2015).
> 
> (2) The English version of Plato’s Epigram, quoted from Robert Drew Hicks’ translation.
> 
> ok now that i read it again, off _was_ being kind of a dick. he will be an even bigger dick in the future so hold on to ur seats. 
> 
> also i highly recommend u to listen to La Valse de L'Amour for a more rounded experience, it wrecked me beyond repair when i read the next chapters, i'll never see cinderella the same way again. a [playlist ](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/1wyIzFfurlZPYvHKBTHWxY?si=DjEyONK6TcivhCT5wN88Rg)for the fic courtesy of [BiruLoveAtp](https://twitter.com/biruloveatp), the best person i know and also probably the biggest fan of this story after me.
> 
> thanks for reading btw <3


	6. I Didn't Want to Fall in Love, I Wanted to Rise Instead (Part 1)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW // gun, hunting

**Number 31A, Kippen**

**West Stirlingshire, Scotland**

**End of June, 2000**

“Kippen is not actually this deserted, Sir. You and Earl just came too early in the season. Starting July, many homeowners from Edinburgh, and even England, will start pouring in to spend their summers here.” Chinnarat walked around the mansion, accompanying Tay as he captured every corner of 31A.

“These are the stained glass, Sir,” Chinnarat supplied, pointing to the window.

Tay Tawan directed his 1987 Leica M4-P to the colorful windows on the side of the mansion. He aimed at different angles with deft hands. “Are these real?”

“Yes, Sir Tay. These windows are some of the few pieces that had survived before the mansion was renovated.” Chinnarat moved to the back, giving space for Tay to aim freely.

“If I’m not mistaken,” Chinnarat continued, “The stained glass is one of Herbert Hendrie’s handiworks, the same artist who colored all fifteen windows of Kippen Church.”

“The church at the foot of Gargunnock Hills?”

“Correct, Sir. I can take you there if you’d like to see it for yourself.” Chinnarat turned around, staring at the broad grassy lawn ahead. "Ah, so is the water fountain, Sir." 

Tay spun, training his camera on the water fountain in the middle of the courtyard which Chinnarat was pointing at. "That's authentic too?" 

Chinnarat nodded. "The body is made of marble, and the base of which is granite. Seems it was made in French, but I don't know for sure. And if Sir Tay looks closer, you can see that some of the corners were gouged. We’ve kept it like that." 

Tay clicked his tongue in awe, he turned around in a small circle, gawking at the overwhelmingly large mansion. "A place this lovely, it's a shame if Jumpol ends up selling it."

Chinnarat jerked his head. "Does Earl plan to sell the mansion, Sir?" 

"Hmm… But he hasn't made up his mind yet, Mr. Chinnarat." Tay took out his film roll, replacing it with a new one. "That's why we're here. Jumpol wants to have a look at the house first before he has to decide." 

Chinnarat stared into space, his eyes looked deep in thoughts. 

"Mr. Chinnarat?"

"Ah! Yes, Sir?" Chinnarat jumped.

"Can I get closer to the fountain? I want to see the gouged corners."

Chinnarat had yet to reply to Tay's request, when they heard a car horn blaring from the direction of the front gate. A silver 9-5 Saab entered the open gate, crossing over the paving block that divided the stretch of lawn.

“Chinnarat!”

The driver poked his head out of the window, shouting loudly while waving his hand, before the 1999 car was even parked perfectly.

A young man, wearing a maroon jacket with the King's College logo on it, stepped out of the wheel. The boy ran as hard as he could and crashed into Chinnarat without warning. He hugged the Adulkittiporn family’s butler tightly, shaking his body.

“Chinnarat! I miss you so very much!”

Tay blinked, watching the milky-skinned boy in astonishment as he yelled some more and latched himself onto the butler. 

“Viscount New... I can’t breathe,” Chinnarat squeaked weakly.

“Aaa... I’m really sorry,” New quickly let go of his arms, and landed his gaze on Tay. His eyes widened. 

“Is this Earl Adulkittiporn?!” New was going to hold out his right hand, but his focus shifted to the camera in Tay’s. “Whoaa! Leica--” 

_Drakkk!!!_

“Earl!!!” 

The harsh deafening sound and Pirapat’s outcry made the three of them spontaneously run to the other side of the mansion. 

“Earl! Are you alright?” Pirapat cocked his head up, shouting in worry. His employer was still coughing, his head sticking out of the forcefully opened window. 

“What happened?” Chinnarat sprinted to him, asking anxiously.

Tay followed Pirapat’s line of sight, and was shocked to find his best friend gasping at the edge of the window.”Peng! What are you doing up there?! Are you okay?” 

Jumpol heard Tay’s scream from down there. He was going to answer, intending to calm his friend and servant who’d sounded worried, but suddenly his back went cold. He immediately turned his back to the window.

“Your name is Gun?” Jumpol coughed dust again.

“What’s wrong with Off?” Gun tilted his head.

“This room is suffocating me, Gun. I can’t breathe,” Jumpol’s explanation came out rushed. ”Hey, no, don’t cry.” Jumpol unconsciously reached out his hands, holding those pale cheeks, erasing any trace of tear on his face. 

Gun almost faltered in his stance. 

“We’ll talk later, yeah? I need to get out of here,” Jumpol pulled his now icy hands away. “I need to see them,” he continued while pointing out the window.

Gun’s eyes dimmed.

“You can come,” Jumpol added. “Don’t get too far away from me, okay?” 

Gun smiled sweetly. Jumpol realized just then that the ghost had beautiful dimples. He shook his head, driving out the crazy thought, and hurried down the stairs. 

“How did Earl find the room?” Chinnarat whispered to Pirapat. 

New glanced at Chinnarat for a second, then turned to the young man at the window. 

“Who’s he?” 

The four looked at each other questioningly.

***

“Aaaa... this is divine, Nawat!” New exclaimed, heartily feeding pieces of lemon meringue pie into his mouth.

They were gathered in the study room. There were several bookshelves in the spacious room, as well as a piano in one corner. They sat around a table, right next to the wide, stained glass window. Sunlight penetrated the glass, creating colorful sparkles that indulge the eyes.

Gun hovered in front of the window, his body splashed with the colorful gleam. Jumpol looked at him in bewilderment. There was something he couldn’t shake about the ghost. After hearing him talk, for some reason Jumpol ended up wanting to know _more_ about him--also the portrait of his great grandfather hidden in the attic. Before this, Jumpol had never seen the faces of his ancestors. No wonder his grandfather had always joked about how much he looked like his great grandfather.

“I didn’t have time for breakfast, stopped everything and just drove over here when Miss Jane said you were visiting. You’ve never been to Kippen, right? Me and my cousins have spent almost every summer here, but the Earl’s family had never showed.... This is really delicious, Nawat! Even Miss Jane can’t replicate your recipe. May I have another piece?” 

Nawat, the Adulkittiporn’s chef, smiled in understanding. It looked like he’d gotten used to New’s antics. He excused himself to go to the kitchen and get another bowl of pie.

Tay Tawan raised his eyebrows at the young man beside him. _Not just super chatty, but really greedy too_ , Tay thought amused.

“What?” New turned to Tay with a mouthful of pie. “You want one?” he said, offering his fork.

Huh? Tay shook his head instinctively.

“This is really good, you guys must try it. Best lemon meringue pie I’ve ever tasted. I tried convincing Nawat to move to our house, several times, but he always refused,” New continued babbling, then gasped. “Eh, by the way we haven’t even properly introduced ourselves! Christ, what have I been doing--”

_Stuffing your mouth with pie_ , Tay whispered to himself.

“I’m New, New Thitipoom Techaapaikhun. Viscount. But just call me New,” New said while pointing his fork to himself. “So, which one of you is Earl Adulkittiporn?” 

Jumpol shifted his gaze from Gun, who was drifting back and forth in front of the window with his adorable poker face on. Ah, if only the sun could heat up his cold body. Hey, what the hell are you thinking, Jumpol!

Jumpol turned to New, “Jumpol. Just call me Jumpol, New.”

“Okay, Earl Jumpol!” New said cheerfully. 

“No. No Earl.” 

New pointedly ignored him, and moved his attention to Tay. “What’s Leica-boy got to do with you, then?” 

“Leica-boy?” Tay blinked. What kind of nickname is that. 

Jumpol held his laughter from across the table. “He’s my best friend, Tay Tawan. You can call him Tay, or Leica-boy, whichever suits you.”

“Hey! Watch your mouth, Peng! Just Tay, please, don’t call me anything weird.” Tay tried to kick Jumpol’s leg from under the table. 

“Well... you have a Leica! Is that the new released version? I’ve never tried a Leica. Can I try it? Please, please? Will you lend it to me, Tay?... What’s taking Nawat so long, I’m still hungry.” 

“No, it’s actually an old one. 1987. You photograph too?”

New nodded fast. “You have to let me borrow your Leica. I have a dark room in the mansion, we can immediately print out the photos before we have to go home. Hey! And since you’ve never visited Kippen, I can take you guys to see around. Lots of cool places to check out here.”

“You have a dark room?” Tay asked in admiration. 

“Yup! So, when should we go?” 

“Not today, New. There’s something I need to do.” Jumpol said as his eyes slid from the window to the piano in the corner of the room, following Gun’s movements. 

“What is it, Peng?” 

“Cleaning the attic.” Jumpol was still fixed on Gun, who was now sitting on the short stool in front of the piano. “You have to see what I found in the attic, Tay.” 

“Huh? Can I come? I’m so lonely, all by myself in the big mansion. Please?... Aaaa Nawat, hand me my pie. This smells incredible, you indeed are the best! Now, Tay, you have to try this too.” New cut a slice and shoved it at Tay. 

“You want to come and help clean the attic?” Jumpol asked, confused. Come to think of it, this young man was a bit unique.

New nodded sternly. “Better than being alone, Earl Jumpol. I don’t want to die of boredom. I usually come here with Att and Joss, but they’ve gone to Switzerland this summer,” he said, a piece of pie fast to his mouth. 

“Eh, Viscount Sangngern and his brother wouldn’t be joining you in Kippen this year, Viscount New?” Nawat asked, his voice puzzled, as he poured cups of earl grey on the table. 

New shook his head. “They’ve abandoned me, Nawat,” he pouted. “Tasty right, Tay?” 

Tay widened his eyes. He slid his plate to Jumpol. 

“Try it, Peng. It’s so good!” 

Jumpol pulled his gaze away from the piano in the corner, cutting a piece on the pastry Tay offered him and tasted it. He sat up straight. “This is really delicious, Mr. Nawat!” 

“Thank you, Earl. If you need me, I will be back in the kitchen.” 

“Oh yeah, Mr. Nawat, will you please tell Mr. Chinnarat? I need a few helpers to clean the dust in the attic. But don’t move a thing.” 

Nawat seemed to consider something, as if he was unsure to say whatever was on his mind.

“Mr. Nawat?” 

“Ah! Of course, Earl. I will deliver your message at once.” 

Jumpol watched his cook leave the room. Looked like the middle-aged man was hiding something.

“Eh, New, what did you say were the names of your cousins again?”

“Joss and Att? Why?” 

“Just... feels like I’ve heard them before,” Jumpol frowned. 

Tay gasped, slamming a cup of earl grey he’d just gulped on the table. “Is Way-Ar the middle name?” 

“Hey!” New exclaimed excitedly. “You know my cousin? Joss Way-Ar Sangngern?” 

“Are you serious? Joss was the ex-captain of our basketball team.” Tay scoffed in disbelief. 

New choked. “Hold on, you were from CLS? I was at King’s College!” he said, showing the logo on his jacket. “We were that close yet we never saw each other? That’s crazy!” CLS and King’s College were both situated on the banks of the River Thames. They were less than a mile away, a 15 minute walk down Queen Victoria Street.

Jumpol nodded, “We graduated this year. Joss was two years ahead of us. But, you’re really his cousin? The world is so small.”

“For real, Earl! My home is in Edinburgh, but since graduation I’ve been staying over at one of their houses in London, with Att, because well… as you may know, Joss continued to Oxford. Eh, you’re not going to Oxford, are you?” 

Tay sneered. “We’re taking business,” he paused to add more tension, “in Said.” 

“Said Oxford? You two? Aarrghhh… now I want to transfer… Why are you all flocking to Oxford…” 

Jumpol chuckled, amused with the overly expressive young man sitting opposite him. Then he diverted his eyes, staring in wonder at Gun who was watching him back full of meaning from the front of the piano.

***

**Number 31, Kippen**

**West Stirlingshire, Scotland**

**Hunting Day, 1898**

“Gun, catch!” 

Gun swiftly caught the rifle that Off threw his way.

That day, Gun and his father had come to meet Off's father's invitation to join the hunt. The other lords had just gone horse-racing into the forest near River Forth; they were going to hunt deer. Meanwhile Off voluntarily cancelled his participation this time, in order to fulfill his promise to Viscount Phunsawat, keeping Gun company while he learned to shoot. The two of them trained in the backyard of the 31A mansion. Several servants could be seen busy preparing the equipment.

“This is British made,” Off supplied. 

“How do you know?” Gun studied the lengthy rifle in his hands. The boy had already handed over his top hat and walking stick to a servant.

“The body is walnut.” A servant gave another rifle to Off. The Earl’s son cradled the weapon in his hand. 

“One can learn where it’s from just by what it’s made of?” Gun asked, curious. 

Off nodded. “If it’s birch, then it must be Russian.”

“Is that so?” Gun stared in amazement, flipping and feeling the rifle as if it was actually interesting. “You can even tell the difference between walnut and birch wood?”

Off’s throat trembled for holding in his laughter. Gun looked up and glared.

“You’re playing a trick on me, aren’t you?” Gun asked, annoyed.

Off’s eyes disappeared as he doubled over. “You’re frighteningly easy, Gun.” 

Gun scowled in dislike.

“It was a jest, okay? Every rifle does have different characteristics with its own raw material, but I know with full certainty that this was made in Britain, because…” Off came closer towards Gun. His hand stretched out, showing the string of letters scrawled faintly on the backside of the rifle. 

“Lee-Enfield,” Gun spelled. 

“Yes! They have a factory in Enfield, Middlesex.” Off prepared his own weapon, opened his empty tube, and closed it again. He pointed the muzzle of his rifle at the sky. “Do you know how to use it, Gun?” 

Gun leered at him. “Was I only invited here so you can insult me to your heart’s content?” 

Off’s laughter burst once more. “Quit pouting, Gun. Here, let me show you.” Off let one of the servants behind them take his rifle, focusing on Gun. 

“Hand me your rifle,” Off requested. The younger man obliged. "First, you have to load your weapon. Turn this lever to the left, then pull. All you need to do is fill the barrel with bullets in this chamber ..." Off put a few bullets that the servant handed him, "... then close. The trick is, push it forward, and turn the lever to the right. Easy, isn’t it?"

Gun nodded, watching intently to the Earl’s son’s explanation. 

“Now, lean it against your collarbone and shoulder.” Off returned it back to him. Gun hesitated but accepted. 

“Like this?” Gun straightened the rifle with unsteady hands, causing it to rest awkwardly on his shoulder. 

Off approached closer, and embraced him from the back without warning. He positioned the back of the rifle in the right place. “Put your left hand here…” he said while pulling at Gun’s left arm, laying his palm under the rifle, “...and your right, on here,” Off directed Gun’s index finger in front of the trigger. 

Gun yielded to being manhandled like a puppet.

“Aim for the bullseye,” Off pointed the muzzle to the air. “Squeeze the trigger with your index.”

_Bang!_

Gun staggered backwards. His back hit Off’s chest. The Earl’s son smiled.

“Before doing your next shot, the cartridge casing needs to be ejected first.” 

Gun turned his head, staring confusedly at Off who was resting his chin on his head. Gun was only realizing just how far their heights actually were. “How…?” 

“It’s exactly the same as loading it. Turn this level to the left then pull…” the spent casing jumped off to the ground, “...once you’ve done that, push it to the front and twist it to the right.” 

“You see…” Off pointed at the casing near their shoes, “...every time a bullet flies off your rifle, it leaves its casing in the chamber, so you have to take it out to shoot another one. Do you understand?” 

Gun nodded. Off released his arms around him. 

“Well then, go ahead. Try to graze the duck, yes?” 

Gun snapped his neck fast to look at him, his forehead scrunched. He followed Off with his eyes, who was walking to a servant, grabbing his own weapon.

“Duck? What duck, Earl Off?”

“Duck hunting, Gun. Do you not know?” 

Gun shook his head, starting to panic. 

He sighed. “Alright, let me show you.” Off raised his rifle in position, and shouted loudly. 

_“Throw!”_

A servant launched a duck into the sky, Off pulled the trigger with his finger. (1)

_Bang!_

The animal fell down with a thud, completely unmoving. 

Gun paled. 

“Now, Gun, it’s your turn.” 

Gun slapped his left hand to his mouth, shutting it tight. 

“Eh, Gun?” 

“I’m so sorry, Earl Off.” Gun quickly shoved his rifle to Off’s chest, and dashed to the back of the courtyard, emptying his stomach underneath the _magnolia_ tree. 

Huh???

Off stared at the son of Viscount Phunsawat curiously. 

***

The hunt was usually done in the afternoon. Nobles raced through the forest on horses carrying weapons, usually a revolver, chasing a deer that had been deliberately prepared in advance. They would spend the whole afternoon there, skipping afternoon tea, then coming back before dinner, whether or not someone had succeeded in disabling those deer.

“Hmm... your father really was not lying.” Off scooped a piece of lemon meringue pie the servant had served. They were enjoying afternoon tea in the study room. “You are not notably skilled at hunting.” 

Gun cast his glance down to the floor, stirring his darjeeling. 

“Does the tea help warm your tummy?” 

Gun felt a blush creeping up, he wanted nothing but to drown in his teacup. Why did he always end up embarrassing himself in front of this man? What wretched luck.

“Hey, Gun... it is not a terrible trait to be more sensitive toward things that are…” Off considered for a moment, searching for a word that wouldn’t be offensive, “...painful.”

Gun raised his eyes from the cup on his lap. “You truly believe so?” 

Off smirked. “Well… if you can't hunt, at the most you will have trouble socializing with other nobles. Then be an outcast, perhaps?” Off shrugged. 

Gun was both torn up and angry to hear that. 

“Hahaha I wasn’t serious, Gun. It’s never necessary to change yourself into someone else only to be accepted. Like me, for example. I would still like to be friends with you, even if you did retch all over my _magnolia saucer_.”

Gun scowled. “Will it hurt you to not taunt me for a minute?” 

“Well... how do I put it,” Off’s grin broadened, “You look excruciatingly sweet when flustered like that.” 

_Damn him._

Gun imagined himself splashing the darjeeling tea in his cup to those smug eyebrows the Earl’s son was flaunting, then promptly bade his farewell. But of course the idea could only play out in his head.

“It’s starting to dawn on me, Earl Off,” Gun stared sharply. “Associating with you can only cause me an early death.” 

Off choked. Laughter erupted from his lips once again. Off had thought that he would regret not joining in the fun, especially when Krist and Singto were also present in the hunt that afternoon. But, the Viscount Phunsawat’s son turned out to be very strange. 

Strange, intriguing… and adorable.

Off wouldn’t mind it at all if he had to spend more time with him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (1) From one of the scenes of the movie The Favorite (2018).
> 
> i mean if the middle finger move existed back then, Gun would've flipped him so many times. 
> 
> and um idk anything abt guns i'm really sorry if i got some terms wrong ksdkdfh. also i kinda just realized the foreshadowing. 
> 
> thanks for reading <3


	7. I Didn't Want to Fall in Love, I Wanted to Rise Instead (Part 2)

**Number 31A, Kippen**

**West Stirlingshire, Scotland**

**End of June, 2000**

From the front of the piano in the corner, Gun waved at Jumpol, urging him to come closer. Jumpol slurped at his earl grey, and quickly approached him. Tay watched him skeptically.

“You play the piano?” Jumpol asked Gun, as the shorter quirked his lips upwards at him. 

New swallowed his pie, and turned to Jumpol. 

“Eh, what, Earl?” 

Jumpol paused in his steps, head snapping back to New. “Eh, sorry, I wasn’t asking you.” 

Tay coughed violently. His suspicion was right. The new ghost who had been tailing his best friend must be around here somewhere. No wonder Jumpol seemed unfocused this afternoon. The hairs on his body rose, the fear from last night re-emerging from the back of his mind. 

Jumpol glanced at his best friend, and widened his eyes.

“Uh, no,” he shook his head, “I mean, yes, I was asking you, New.” 

Across the room, Gun was tilting his head. 

“No, Earl. Almost everyone in my family doesn’t learn the piano. We play the violin. Eh, can you, though? … Whoaa, I just realized there’s a piano right over there! Try playing a piece, Earl. I’d love to hear it. Can Tay play too?” New swiveled his stool to fully face the direction of the piano.

Tay inherently jumped a bit at his name being called, before nodding tightly.

“Eh, what’s with you, Tay?” New frowned, the young man’s shoulders tensed up suddenly.

Tay just dismissed it with a weak shake of his head. Ah, if only he could share this secret with New. Must be nice to not be terrified all by himself.

Jumpol gracefully perched on the piano stool. Gun drifted a little further, creating space between them so Jumpol wouldn’t feel too cold. Jumpol raised his gaze up at him, and whispered, careful to not let anyone hear him. “What would you like to hear?” 

Gun tilted his head, considering.

Ugh, Jumpol would have to ask Gun to stop that habit. Tilting his head like that, it was not the healthiest thing for his heart. Jumpol’s cheeks ran hot. He averted his gaze to the rows of piano tuts below him. _Stop with the crazy thoughts, Jumpol!_

“Vivaldi?” 

Jumpol looked at him again. “Vivaldi? With a piano?” he asked, making sure. Vivaldi’s compositions were usually played with a violin.

Gun nodded cutely. Jumpol heaved a slow breath, relaxing his fingers, trying to calm the wild hammering of his heart at the same time. There was something wrong with this ghost. There was something wrong with his eyes, his smile, and his hobby of tilting his head!

The piano chimed among the walls, filling the silence within the study room.

Gun gasped softly, staring with his tear-stained eyes at Jumpol’s back. He could feel a growing lump beneath his chest. Massive longing, hope, void, carving a gaping hole in his heart.

“Don’t cry, Gun. Yes, I know you’re crying.” Jumpol said quietly while still concentrating on the dance of his fingers. “For some reason, you get even colder when you’re sad.” 

Gun seemed taken aback, he chose to float further away without a word.

New observed the back of Adulkittiporn’s heir intently. He and his cousins were quite full of tales of the Earl’s family’s past from their great grandmother. New had always wanted to find out for himself what they were like, but with every summer passing, the Earl’s family had not visited once. Despite the mansion 31A being well taken care of all these years, despite each heart in Kippen remaining loyal to them, they had never bothered to show up. New had heard the rumours, five years ago, that the mansion was to be sold. They must have no idea how discouraged everyone in Kippen had been when it reached them. Funny, how the Adulkittiporn family never learned how important their presence in this quaint little town was. Even, the heir, the one who had been awaited, the one whom New was finally able to get to know, didn’t want to be addressed with his own title. 

All morning, New had been trying to get rid of his nerves. Fortunately his wit and exuberance could conceal most of it. 

But, listening to him dance his fingers away on the piano tuts; his back broad and straight, his sincerity filling in the air with each note he played, and--somehow--his choice of Vivaldi’s music, New thought, perhaps it was time to fulfill his great grandmother’s last dying wish. 

“Vivaldi’s Winter…” New spoke softly. (1)

“Yeah, from the Four Seasons.” 

“Does Earl Jumpol like Vivaldi that much, Tay? I mean, playing Winter on a piano, it’s very strange.”

Tay shook his head. “Beats me. I don’t know why he’s playing Winter all of a sudden. Jumpol tends to show off in front of a piano. He’s a bit of a Liszt maniac.”

“Franz Liszt?” 

Tay nodded. “Yes, the Hungarian composer. He’s obsessed with La Campanella.” 

“My great grandmother’s favorite…” New whispered again.

“La Campanella?” 

“No Tay, this, the piece Earl is playing. Vivaldi’s Winter.” 

Laughter spilled out of New’s mouth right then. Tay blinked confusedly at the King’s College freshman.

“Maybe my great grandmother's ghost woke from the dead to tell him to play Winter.” 

Tay froze.

His face paled.

Hanging out with these nobles for too long might sooner scrape away the little sanity he had left. 

***

**Number 31A, Kippen**

**West Stirlingshire, Scotland**

**Hunting Day, 1898**

“The hunt will still be on for quite some time. They’ll only be back before supper. So, what do you think we shall do until then?”

Off heaved a breath, too full from his pie. 

“Anything you like, Earl Off.” Gun answered, indifference in his voice. He was beginning to feel uncomfortable sitting alone with the Earl’s son here. He sipped his darjeeling, pushing down the bad sensation which grew in his chest at once.

Off grinned. 

“So, Gun, why did you wear a dress to a party?” 

Gun choked, accidentally spitting out the darjeeling clogging up his throat, wetting Off’s face in success. He coughed.

_Bastard, the audacity!_ Gun cursed in his head. His face and neck no doubt in crimson shade. Then he looked up, staring at the Earl in front of him, and gasped.

“Earl Off!” Gun exclaimed, immediately standing up in panic. The Earl’s son was nailed to his seat, his face drenched in tea, tight-lipped with an unreadable expression. 

“I’m very sorry, Earl! Truly, please forgive me. I didn’t mean to do it!” Gun sputtered loudly, searching for a handkerchief in his pockets.

“Please do not resent me, Earl. I swear on my death it was not on purpose…” Gun walked around the table to Off who kept sitting still. He reached out with haste, wiping the remains of his darjeeling with his handkerchief. Off watched him in astonishment.

“I’m sorry, Earl…” Gun whispered, pleading. His hand was busy squeezing the tea from his collar.

“Gun?”

“How is this…” 

“Gun?” 

“Ah! Yes, Earl!” Gun pulled his gaze away from Off’s collars.

“There’s still some on my cheek.” 

“Certainly, Earl!” Gun waved his handkerchief over to Off’s cheek. 

“The right one, Gun… my forehead, as well… and the rim of my lips, not the right side, Gun, the left… ah, so is my hair…” 

Gun rushed his movements to the places Off directed, his mouth forming all kinds of apologies out in the process.

“...My nose.”

Gun lowered his hand from Off’s hair, handkerchief hovering over his nose. He was met with a huge grin imprinted on his face.

Off held in his laughter.

Gun fell silent, his fingers stopped fussing, and jolted straight as he realized he was being tricked. 

“Earl Off!” he cried, frustrated. He pushed himself off of the Earl’s son’s body. 

Off laughed unabashedly, an infinite sound, resonating among the walls. 

_Argghhh! Damned rascal._ Why did he keep falling for his traps?

_Ack!_ Off flicked Gun’s forehead.

“Earl Off! What is the problem with you? It hurts!” Gun stuck out his handkerchief in a disorderly manner. His left palm was busy rubbing at his throbbing forehead.

“I couldn’t help myself… you acted as if we have you to blame for letting hell break loose. What did you think I was going to do to you anyway, hm?” Off’s eyes crinkled in amusement while he cleaned his face with Gun’s handkerchief.

Gun turned his face away, stomping to his own seat. Asking himself how a creature as exasperating as him could ever disrupt his quiet life.

“So, why did you wear a dress--” 

“Could you stop bringing it up, Earl? Whatever possible motivation of mine that run through your head, I promise none of it is true. I hope you don’t assume things you have no knowledge of.” 

“Oh? You know what goes through my head?” Off smirked again.

“My point is, My Lord, I beg you to not discuss it any further. You never saw me wear it. And you _will never_ either. So, please, could we pretend it never happened?” Gun stared, pleading.

“Really? But not ever? Not even if I asked? It’s a pity, you appeared very sweet with that cocktail hat the other day…”

Gun clenched his jaw. _Chin up, Gun Atthaphan Phunsawat. Keep your chin up! One day you must be able to seal that mouth shut._

“I failed to make sense of what you just said, Earl Off. May I be excused to leave, now?” For all of his ancestors sake, he absolutely would rather go home now, even better if he could disappear from the Earl’s son’s face for eternity.

Off chuckled again.

“Of course not, Gun. You must wait for your father, remember?” 

Remind Gun again why he’d even agreed to go with his father for the foolish invitation. Hahh... this was exhausting.

“Hey, don’t be too glum, Gun. I was only pulling your leg, okay? I won’t bring up the matters of the dress--I meant _that_ anymore. I promise.”

“Are you serious?” Gun whispered softly, not really hoping for an answer from Off.

“Hmm.” Off smiled genuinely. “Would you like to hear a piece?” 

“Do what you want, Earl Off. As long as it doesn’t involve me.” 

“Oh don’t say such a thing, Gun. I’m very delighted to be conversing with you like this.”

“But this conversation does not give me delight, Earl Off.” 

“Hahahahaha…” Off rose from his seat, paused to ruffle Gun’s hair, and continued his stride towards the piano in the corner of the room.

“Let me play my favourite…” he said, dropping down elegantly onto the stool, “...as an apology.”

The melodies of the piano fluttered to his ears. Gun blew out a small breath, was it Niccolo Paganini?

Off’s lithe fingers danced on the piano tuts leisurely. Gun found himself unable to take his eyes off. It was as if the infuriating man dissolved into somebody else. He had quite rejected the idea of the women of Kippen going berserk over the Earl’s son before. His actions towards Gun proved there was nothing to be hysterical for but the sheer displeasure he brought upon him. But, listening to him perform on the piano, Gun was able to see another side of the him. He emanated a certain charisma, his back somehow beaming light sincerity. As if… as if The Lord had created him with surreal perfection. Handsome, virtuous, and intelligent, it was no wonder why everybody was stricken with admiration. _Eh, what the bloody hell are you thinking, Gun Atthaphan! Which part of this bastard that sounds perfect? Get a hold of yourself!_

Off sped up the dance of his fingers, brushing over each white tuts, and pushed the last notes of the song with a final flair. Long breaths escaped his lips as he adjusted his adrenaline rush, and turned to Gun at last.

“How was it?” He asked, grinning wide.

Gun was speechless. But, he shook his head, and tried to rearrange his thoughts carefully.

“Paganini?” Gun asked, confirming.

Off’s head shook. “The melodies were taken from Paganini, but that was Liszt.” 

“Franz Liszt? La Campanella?” (2)

“Correct!” Off nodded eagerly. 

“The one which is reputed to be _one of the hardest pieces ever written for piano_?”

Off nodded, even more zealous now. “Yes. How about it? I’m brilliant, aren’t I?” he asked, teeth peeking out under his broad smirk.

Gun choked. “I suppose it surprises me I didn’t add bragging as one of your hobbies, Earl Off.”

Off laughed hearing that.

Well, forget about the perfectly dashing young man, the heart-tugger of Kippen. Earl Off was an arrogant person who caused him headaches for days.

“Now, it’s your turn, Gun. Play a piece for me,” Off requested, walking back to his previous seat, letting Gun have the spotlight with the piano in the corner. 

“I apologize, Earl Off, I do not play the piano.” Gun turned down.

Huh?

“You don’t play the piano? He? How come?” Off frowned. Just how many more surprises the son of Viscount Phunsawat possessed? 

“I play the violin,” he said with a stern voice.

Off immediately smiled. “Don’t you worry, Gun, I will ask a servant to bring one for you. Do not move.”

“Eh, Earl Off--”

Gun had yet to finish his sentence, but Off already disappeared out of his sight. He turned after the door, seemingly talking to a servant who had been standing by over there.

Without waiting for very long, Off came back with a violin and its bow in tow. (3)

“I retrieved it for you from the music room,” Off grinned. “Here, play your favourite.”

Gun sighed, accepting the instrument handed to him half-heartedly. “Don’t regret it, Earl Off. I’m not quite as much a virtuoso as you are.”

“Quit kidding around, Gun. There, take the place in front of the window.” Off pointed to the vibrant stained window in the middle of the room.

Gun stood at the place Off directed him to. He blew a long breath, and placed the violin on his left shoulder, securing it under his jaw. His right hand hung the bow slanted above the strings. With another hard sigh, Gun closed his eyes.

The first strokes of bow began the boisterous piece, uninhibited notes trickling out of his hands. Off stood up almost instantly, choosing to enjoy his performance by leaning against the wall across from the window. 

The reddening dusk glow filtered through the stained glass, reflecting fragments of colors all over the floor. Gun was positioned right in the center of the window, his body bathed in different shades of rainbow. With every violent draw across the strings, Gun’s body curved along, giving life to the rhythm.

Off caught himself in a trance.

Off had known something was peculiar about the young man ever since they’d met accidentally in Krist’s shop all those weeks ago. Off was aware of the unusual way he stood, the way he walked, and how he somehow thoughtlessly protected his sister on impulse. Off noticed the hypnotic edge to his voice which managed to make him say the most ridiculous things. Off realized he had never seen anyone whose eyes shine brighter than his.

But, the young man who was dancing with his violin near the window, splashed in the last rays of sundown and kaleidoscopic reflection from the stained glass, did not look like he belonged to any part of this world.

_When His spirit was breathed into thee_

_His mind must have etched the angel of beauty_

_And ten thousand eyes in the sky sparked ablaze, for they all but bled their blessing indeed_

Off blinked. His heart thumped against his rib cage. Ah, this was not supposed to happen.

Gun stroked the last note on the string, and delicately let the violin down from under his chin, finally lifting his eyelids. He seemed stunned to find Off not in his seat. Gun combed the rest of the room, spotting Off resting his back against the wall across from him, motionless.

“First Movement Winter, Antonio Vivaldi.” Gun said shyly. 

Gun waited, but the Earl’s son had no reaction.

“Was it that great? You appear enthralled, Earl Off,” he said in a teasing tone.

Off’s blood visibly rushed to his cheeks.

“Eh, Earl Off, your face is getting red. Are you catching a fever?” Gun asked, knitting his brows in worry.

“Do tell, Gun. Do you secretly hide a pair of wings behind your back?”

Huh?  
“What do you mean, Earl Off?” Gun tilted his head.

Off reeled in at once, quickly covering his forehead with his right palm. His neck must be doubtlessly crimson. _Ah, why would he do that, why would he tilt his head like that._

Gun gaped at him.

Wow, was it that easy to silence the Earl’s son? Note it finely, Gun Atthaphan, the bothersome and foul-mouthed Off Adulkittiporn could not stand you tilting your head! Gun’s smirk was wide.

Off sucked in a large breath, slamming both of his hands to his face, calming down his heart. He peeked to Gun grinning with satisfaction through his fingers. God, he even had beautiful dimples. And his eyes, the eyes which had always been too luminous, were gleaming even brighter. How did The Lord even contain all the good in the world in his tiny body?

“Earl Off?” Gun waved in front of his face, trying to recover his attention.

Off inhaled heavily once more. He straightened his stance, hiding his left hand behind his back, and offered his right out to Gun.

He? _What is this_?

Off closed his eyes for a moment, then he stared deeply into Gun. 

“Gun Atthaphan Phunsawat…”

Hmm?

“...would you dance with me?”

!!!

_Buk!_

Gun smacked Off’s head with the bow, his face burning hot red. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (1) Winter, from the Four Seasons, composed by Antonio Vivaldi, first time publicized in Amsterdam, 1725.  
> (2) Franz Liszt’s La Campanella was composed in 1838, and revised in 1851. The melodies were taken from Violin Concerto No. 2 in B Minor of Niccolo Paganini.  
> (3) Bow = the stick to stroke the strings with.
> 
> one of my favorite chapters actually :< hope you like the little poem at the end, almost went crazy over it 
> 
> thank you for reading <3


	8. A Wildest Dream (Part 1)

**Number 31A, Kippen**

**West Stirlingshire, Scotland**

**End of June, 2000** ****

New still had not blinked. He kept looking between Jumpol and the portrait in front of him. His breath hitched; mixture of astonishment, disbelief, and horror sprinted in and out of his head.

The servants had only finished clearing all the dust and spider-webs in the attic after lunch. Chinnarat hadn’t mustered the courage to ask the Earl of how he’d found the one place purposefully hidden in the mansion for five years. The button that allowed it to open had been buried under the wallpaper. Nobody should have known about it unless someone had given Jumpol a clue. Chinnarat was beginning to wonder about the ghost Jumpol had spotted during last night’s dinner. Although, a son, he'd said? As far as he and every employee in mansion 31A were concerned, none of the Adulkittiporns had ever died that young. They had been working for them for generations, loyal to the service for hundreds of years. Chinnarat, for instance, replaced his grandfather and great grandfather as the butler. Countless events had taken place in this house, those tales were also passed down to them as they grew up. Or was there really another story even they couldn’t know? 

“Earl Jumpol, stand there…” 

New grabbed Jumpol’s arm, pulling the younger man towards the right side of the framed portrait, his eyes remained fixed on it with curious intensity.

“Wow, Peng... I don’t even know what to say.” Tay, who also had his mouth open beside New, finally spoke.

“You’ve never told me about this… I mean, why haven’t you told me about this?” 

Jumpol stood beside the portrait, as New requested. “I just found out about it this morning. My grandfather was always joked about me and his dad looking so alike, but… I thought he meant my eyes or my nose. Not  _ this _ .”

“Every single feature is exactly identical. Not just your eyes and nose…” New nodded to himself, at last managed to convince himself that Jumpol was indeed a replica of the late Earl Adulkittiporn. “I don’t know if I should be amazed or horrified. Are you sure you’re not some sort of a reincarnated being, Earl? Can you remember certain events from the past? Do you see the inexplicable? Have you been reborn to exact your revenge?” 

Tay widened his eyes at the person beside him, both disbelieving and amused.  _ Why is he so silly? _

Jumpol stared at Gun smiling sweetly at him. “Inexplicable… does it include ghosts?”

“Huh?” 

New froze.

“You’re kidding right, Earl? Because I was just poking fun earlier, haha,” he laughed clumsily, his panic suddenly rising.

Jumpol shared a look with Tay. Tay replied with one of his eyebrows raised. For some reason, New had a bad feeling about it.

Tay sighed. “So, New, the truth is--” 

“Aaaa!!” New jumped to Tay, hiding his body behind him. “You weren’t about to say anything weird right, Tay? I just had goosebumps … Tay, are you also feeling cold? Did you not feel the sudden drop in the temperature? Tay? … Why do you look so serious, Earl?” New frowned at Jumpol, before turning back to Tay to see his face, “Tay! Why are you so pale?!” 

Jumpol massaged his temples, he felt like flicking Gun on the forehead for playing with New and his best friend. “Gun, what did I say about scaring my friends? Come here, leave them alone,” he said, waving his hand, urging him to drift away from his pale cold friends. Gun pouted, but did as Jumpol asked.

“So, I’m not the only one who can feel cold around you?” The Adulkittiporn’s heir asked.

Gun nodded, “If I want.” 

“Don’t do it again, okay?” Jumpol flicked Gun’s forehead. The ghost grimaced, cutely rubbing on the red spot. “You can only do it to me.”

New shook Tay’s shoulders from the back. That best friend of Jumpol was still paralyzed to the spot, hanging his mouth at his best friend’s absurd behaviour. All this time, although Jumpol had always possessed the strange ability, none of his ghosts had ever troubled him; ever since they graduated from Primrose Hill, his best friend had stopped exchanging with them in front of Tay.

“Are you guys still freaked?” Jumpol asked calmly. 

“Are you serious, Earl?! You’re not acting? Will  _ that _ obliterate us?” New’s voice raised in hysteria. 

“What? You’ve watched too many horror films, New,” Jumpol reassured. “Gun is adorable, he won’t give you guys any trouble anymore, I promise.” 

Gun, hearing himself being referred to as adorable, grinned ear to ear. He nodded, agreeing to Jumpol’s statement, despite the two not being able to see him. 

“Really??? … For some reason, going home sounds much more pleasant to me right now,” New begged. He had not expected that meeting with the Adulkittiporn’s heir would expose him to such an experience.

“Oh?” Jumpol looked disappointed. Well... it was true that not everybody could bear being friends with him for long because of his ability. But, Jumpol wanted to encourage Gun to speak to him freely, whenever he liked. That had been the reason why he’d wanted to introduce Gun to everyone in the mansion, but after witnessing New’s reaction, he might need to reconsider.

Tay adjusted his breath, couldn’t stand seeing the beaten expression on Jumpol’s face. Jumpol had not had a lot of friends for a long time. They’d concluded he was an nutcase from the start when Tay had always felt very fortunate to have his best friend. Eventually, once they'd started in CLS, Jumpol had chosen to keep his ability to himself. How the basketball team even ended up knowing had been an accident. And most of them had kept their conversations short, fearing him in secret.

“New,” Tay spun around, staring down at New who was still hiding underneath the shadow of his back. “Are you sure you want to go home? Didn’t you say you’d help out? Do you really prefer to be alone in your mansion?” 

New returned his gaze dubiously, “Is Tay not afraid?”

“Hhhh… I’ve known Jumpol since forever, New. I know he can, you know…. I’m just shocked, none of them had ever bothered me before.” Tay turned to the direction where Off was standing. 

“You won’t startle us again, right, what was your name? Don’t do that, okay? You can really give us both heart attacks,”  Tay continued, pointing to the empty space beside Jumpol. "Is he saying anything, Peng?"

“Gun is nodding and smiling sweetly at you,” Jumpol said, smirking. 

“See, New. He won’t give you any trouble. Just relax, okay?” 

New nodded weakly, he was still unsure, but like hell he was going to spend the rest of the summer all alone. 

“Is Earl sure he’s not dangerous?” 

Jumpol nodded vigorously. “Gun is kind, New. He’s also younger than us. Eh, aren’t you?” He just realized he hadn’t asked about his age. 

Gun tilted his head. 

Ugh. Yes, that habit. Jumpol hadn’t asked him to stop it either. 

“How old are you, Gun?” 

“Eighteen.” 

“He? You’re really eighteen years old? You look fourteen or sixteen at most.” 

Jumpol shifted to New and his best friend, “You’re not going home, New?” 

“Eh? Umm… no, as long as Gun, it’s Gun, isn’t it? As long as Gun doesn’t try anything funny to me, I would rather be with you guys. I don’t want to be just by myself in the summer... “ New whispered in Tay’s ear. “...But don’t stay far away from me okay, Tay? Please, please, Tay?” 

Tay chuckled in affirmation. It  _ was  _ nice to be able to share his fear with someone, even if New was no less scared than he was. Though if Jumpol could be this comfortable talking to a ghost, then he must be nowhere near scary.

“So, Peng, what'll you do with this attic?” Tay asked in curiosity. 

“Oh right… Gun took me here this morning. So, I think his request is probably related to the objects in the attic.” 

Tay was suddenly excited, “Does this mean New and I can help with your mission?”

“Eh, what mission, Tay?” 

“So, New, if a ghost appears to Jumpol, it means they need something. And if their wish is successfully granted, they can leave in peace. Usually it’s about a message they want delivered, or items they want found.” Tay explained at length. 

New’s eyes lit up. “Whoaa… like a detective story? So we’re solving cases now? …  _ Huft _ , it’s a good thing I decided to stay.” 

Tay watched him amusedly, the young man was very strange. Just a second ago he’d looked about ready to flee out of dread, now he was back to his previous cheerful self, sparkles to his eyes. 

“So, Peng…” Tay turned to Jumpol, “What does he want?” 

“What do you want, Gun?” Jumpol stared straight into the ghost’s eyes. 

Gun fell silent, eyebrows deep in thoughts. Then, he tilted his head. “What does it mean, Off?” 

Huh? Why was this ghost asking him back? Usually, the ghost who purposely appeared before Jumpol would have blurted their request without any form of courtesy, sometimes even before they introduced themselves. But, Gun… Something was different about the ghost. He hadn’t even said a word last night, and he was no more talkative today, mostly just listened and followed Jumpol around mid-air.

“You showed yourself to me because you have something to ask of me, didn’t you?” Jumpol asked, confused. 

“Do you mean, I may ask for anything?” 

Wasn’t Gun supposed to ask for something? If it was not to fulfill his final wish, then why had he appeared to Jumpol in the first place?

“Yes… you may?” Jumpol said hesitantly. “Whatever your wish is, if it’s possible, I’ll help make it happen.” 

Gun’s eyes suddenly widened, twinkling. “Could we return your portrait to its place?” 

Jumpol raised an eyebrow. “My portrait? What portrait, Gun?” 

Gun drifted closer to the portrait of Jumpol’s great grandfather, pointing at it with a lovely grin across his face. “Off’s portrait, this one. Would you?” 

“Oh, you mean my great grandfather’s portrait--” 

Gun shook his head. “Off’s portrait,” he said, hovering over the floor, poking Jumpol’s chest. 

“Yes, Gun, this portrait right?” Off pointed to the giant painting of his great grandfather. “Where to return it, do you know the place?” 

Gun nodded vibrantly, “The balcony on the second floor, above the ballroom.” 

Jumpol scanned his face closely.  _ That was it? _ he thought. It was too easy. For some reason he wasn’t that willing to let this ghost disappear so early.

***

_ Ever and again it doesn’t take you much to fall in love  _

_ Either to men, or women, or the beloved _

_ But if you have the freedom to choose;  _

_ isn’t it better to grow, instead of just to merely fall? _

**Number 1A, Kippen**

**West Stirlingshire, Scotland**

**A Tangle of The Handkerchief, 1898**

The Phunsawat mansion’s guards jolted straight, frantically scrambling for servants to assemble at once, as a carriage pulled by a single horse with the “A” logo carved on the door, rode into the yard without warning. There had been no previous order from their employers about the Adulkittiporns visiting. And, even more surprising was the sole son of the Earl stepping out of the vehicle. 

“Welcome, My Lord… Nobody advised us we would be graced with the company of the Earl today,” the guard uttered timidly. 

“My apologies, I had the sudden urge to pay a visit,” Off said casually while telling the driver to pull the carriage to the side. 

“No, Earl, it is not at all that... we haven't done anything to prepare for your arrival,” he said with an uneasiness in the chest, stretching his arm out to the side to lead the Earl inside. 

Off waved his right hand in front of his face, and smiled reassuringly. “There’s absolutely no need to go an extra length for me. Where is Viscount Phunsawat?” 

A servant stumbled towards Off, letting the guard return to the front gate. “Forgive us, Earl… But The Viscount and Viscountess have left for Edinburgh.” 

“Oh?” Off eyes fell in disappointment. “Did everybody go? Is nobody at home?” 

The servant searched his face, waited to guess the motives behind the Earl’s impromptu visit. “Was Earl meaning to catch Lady Pim? I’m sorry, Earl, the Lady also went with them, they are staying there for a week--” 

Off shook his head, about to protest.

“--But Viscount Gun--” 

“Is Gun here?” Off interrupted the servant’s words, a huge grin plastered on his face. “It doesn’t matter if Gun is here. I would like to see Gun. Where might he be?” 

The servant blinked in confusion, then smiled knowingly.  _ Oh, perhaps it concerns the affairs of the youth.  _

“Viscount Gun is keeping Young Master Chimon company in his  _ waltz _ practice, Earl. Allow me to take you there.” (1) 

“Who is Chimon?” Off asked puzzled, he had never heard the name before. 

“A nephew of Viscountess Phunsawat, Earl.” 

They climbed up the staircase which had been designed to spiral halfway into the second floor. As soon as he stepped foot on the landing, Off could hear the strokes of a violin, Dmitri Shostakovich's  _ The Second Waltz  _ playing in slow tempo. A woman's voice rang through the notes, seemingly explaining something.

“Pay attention to the  _ box step _ , Young Master… remember, we have to move on the count of 123.  _ One _ left foot to the front;  _ two  _ right foot to the side, open it so it would align with the left;  _ three _ bring the left closer to the right…” 

“Ack! Godji! I stepped on your toes--” Off was able to hear the yelp of a boy echoing out of the room at the end of the corridor. 

“You needn’t panic, Young Master, it’s alright… Now, just keep on moving,  _ one two three, one two three, one two three… _ ” 

The servant left Off in front of the door, asking him to wait, he was about to give announcement of his arrival to Gun. But before the servant could enter the room, Off hurried to stop him. “It’s fine, I can just wait here.” 

The servant gasped, “How can that be, Earl? Who would possibly let an Earl stand here, it’s preposterous.” 

“Ssstt… you are going to disturb them--” 

The servant ignored Off, quickly approaching Gun who was still in a deep ardent state, drawing his bow across the strings diligently by the window. Off clicked his tongue, he had wanted to watch Gun’s performance a little longer. 

He could not tell what the servant was whispering to Gun, but the sixteen year-old abruptly stopped his playing, opening his eyes at once. He searched the room before finally shooting daggers to Off’s figure by the door. 

Hearing that the music had ended, Godji followed his line of sight to the doorway. She staggered backwards. “Earl Off! Why are you standing there, please sit down, Earl!” 

Godji smacked the shoulder of the servant who had led him there, whispering exasperatedly, “Why did you let the Earl just stand there like a stone?” 

Gun sighed. His strides were brief as he approached Off who elected to invite himself into the room. “What do you want?” Gun asked sharply. 

“Eeh? Are you still mad at me?” Off put on a mask of shock. “Shouldn’t it be me who feels outraged? You hit my head with a bow, then immediately leave without waiting for your father…” Off counted with his fingers. “And what cuts even deeper was the fact that you refused to danc--” 

Gun surged up to cover Off’s mouth with his palm. His face red with anger. His eyes glared, signaling Off to quit his blabber.

“Chimon, I’m sorry, we will have to continue this later. Urgent matters have just arisen,” Gun said while offhandedly throwing his violin on the table. He pulled on Off’s arm, forcing the man to follow him out of the room. 

Off’s grin was wide, waving his hand towards the boy whose eyes were watching them in confusion. 

“Can you--” Gun shook his head. “I beg of you, Earl. Can you stop spouting all sorts of absurdity?” he said, tone dripping with irritation as they reached the backyard, standing face to face near a row of _ arborvitae _ trees.

“What absurdity, Gun? I don’t understand,” Off kept the grin on his face. 

“Don’t play stupid, Earl. What do you think would people conclude by knowing you asked me to dance with you?” 

“What are they going to assume? We have danced before, they even applauded in awe--” 

“Ssshhh! Ssshhh!” Gun begged Off to lower his voice. He looked around, afraid someone would overhear their conversation. “You have promised me to never discuss it again, Earl.”

“I promised not to bring up about you wearing _ it  _ to a party, Gun, not about--” 

Gun stuck his right arm to Off’s face, forcing him to stop talking. He massaged his temples, head suddenly throbbing. Speaking with the Earl’s son could really cause him a terrible case of high blood pressure. 

“What was Earl’s intention for coming here? My father is currently absent. Earl should go home. My father will offer you his presence himself in the comfort of your own mansion once he returns.” Gun rushed out, and proceeded to leave Off. He crossed the garden, about to enter the mansion back 

“Who said I came here to meet your father?” Off followed Gun from behind. 

“If it wasn’t for father, then for what?” 

Gun halted in the midst of his pace, and turned around. He glared sharp. “Don’t say… Were you expecting to see my sister? What ulterior plans do you have for her?” 

“What? Why does everybody think I’m pursuing Pim Phunsawat?” 

Gun scowled. 

“Hhhh… For Heaven’s sake, Gun. I simply came here to see you. Look, I even rode my carriage and everything.”

Gun rolled his eyes. “Please, Earl. The distance between your home and mine hardly makes seven miles.” 

“Do you really not remember the object you left in my mansion? I especially came to return it to you.” 

“What did I leave behind?” Gun asked, confused, somehow getting worried.  _ He didn’t leave anything embarrassing, did he? _

“Are you sure you can’t recall?” Off asked in a playful tone. Gun grew more nervous 

“Was it something embarrassing? I apologize if I’ve unintentionally displeased you with it, Earl Off.” Gun seriously did not want to create an antagonist out of the arrogant man. It was hard enough being his friend, he wouldn’t want to experience them as enemies. 

Off shook his head, desperately suppressing his laughter.

Gun raised an eyebrow, questioning.

“Shadow.”

Huh? What on earth was he talking about? 

“Your shadow, Gun. You left your shadow behind. Everyday I see it in every corner of my mansion.” 

!!!!!

Gun spun around, elected to resume his hurried steps into the mansion. No intention whatsoever to come face to face again with the brazen chump. 

Off’s laughter burst, trying to catch up to Gun’s speed, staying two steps behind him 

Why? What was the Earl’s problem? What terrible sin had Gun ever committed that the man felt entitled to be a constant pain in his life. Gun was awfully tired, wishing he could follow his sister and parents to Edinburgh. 

“Gun…” Off was still trying to stop laughing. “I was joking, okay? Are you mad?” 

Gun stayed silent. Let the bastard talk his own ears off until he felt satisfied with himself. 

“I’m sorry, Gun,” Off said genuinely. “I did come here to return something, truly.” 

Gun drew a long breath, trying to thicken his patience. He turned around to Off, “What does Earl like to return to me?“

Off looked to be pulling something out of the right pocket of his pants. He extended a white handkerchief, an embroidery of Gun’s initial, G. A. P, at one of the corners. It was the handkerchief which Gun had used to clean Off’s face from the spray of darjeeling a while back. 

“I’ve washed it clean,” Off answered, reassuring him. 

Gun grabbed the handkerchief, giving Off a dirty look.

Off smiled, “I mean, the servants washed it. But I’ve seen to it that it’s clean. No more of that darjeeling you belched onto me the other day.”

!!!!!

Inhale, Gun. Remember, The Lord created you with a forbearance as strong as steel. You would not explode just because this man was vain to his blood and bones. 

“So, besides the gown, the dance, my vomit under your magnolia tree, you also won’t be letting go of the darjeeling incident? Alright, I will better prepare myself if I’m being  _ coerced  _ to speak to you next time.” 

Off laughed again. Ah, how lovely it would be if he could live forever with this adorable entity.

“Anything else you feel the need to return to me, Earl Off? Other than my shadow that you said is haunting every corner of your mansion,” Gun asked, challenging.

Off smiled, “Nothing else, My Lord.” 

“Then I believe you must know the exit gate.” 

“Certainly, My Lord, I’m fully aware of where the exit is in your mansion. But, if I may, there is one thing I would like to bring home.” 

_ Heavens, what now?  _

Off stepped closer, both of his arms stretched forward. 

He? What was he doing? 

The Earl’s son was not grinning, nor smirking, his eyes were fixed on Gun in all colours of seriousness. Gun was suddenly stricken with fear--he was about to step back, but Off had already taken hold of his cheeks. 

Heeeee???

“Viscount Gun Atthaphan Phunsawat…” 

Gun froze. 

“... I want to bring back all the stars in your eyes…” 

Deg. 

“...  _ My Star-Stealing Aster _ .” (2) 

Off smiled. 

The only son of Earl Adulkittiporn then sauntered out of the mansion, leaving Gun standing still beside the half-spiral staircase. His eyes were unblinking, watching Off’s back who slowly disappeared, vanishing inside the carriage with the “A” logo on the door. 

“Wait, My Lord, where has Earl Off gone to?” Godji asked confusedly as she approached him. The sounds of horse’s shoes galloping could be heard outside the mansion 1A’s gate.

“My Lord!! Did you let the Earl leave without offering him a drink?! God, My Lord! Where should we put the Phunsawat’s face if the Earl ever gets this barbarity out to the public… Viscount Gun Atthaphan! Are you even listening?” 

Gun ignored Godji, scrambling about in chaos. He touched his cheek. He could still find the remnants of the warmth left. 

Gun had never seen a smile that genuine on Off. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> author's note:  
> (1) Waltz = a ballroom dance that is done in pairs in ¾ time. The basic step in waltz is called the “box step” because during the dance, people make the shape of a box with their feet.  
> (2) Star-stealing Aster is something that I changed from the English translation “Plato’s Epigram,” -- Star-gazing Aster. Off called Gun that because when they danced in “O, Star-Gazing Aster” he said to Gun “... your eyes shine splendidly. As if you stole all the stars and confine every single one in there.” Aster in the Greek language means star. So, basically, for Off, Gun is “A star that steals all the other stars.” Cheesy, I know, hahaha…
> 
> not so important note by me:  
> this doesnt even look that long, but sure didnt feel like it when i was doing it lmao im sorry for taking so much time, school has been super hectic. if ure still waiting ily thank u for reading, hope it's not too disappointing. 
> 
> praying for all the SEA countries rn, hope we see better days. pls stay safe <3


	9. A Wildest Dream (Part 2)

**Number 31A, Kippen**

**West Stirlingshire, Scotland**

**End of June, 2000**

“Earl Jumpol…” Chinnarat followed Jumpol and Tay who had just gotten down from the attic to the second floor. They were carrying the portrait of Jumpol’s great grandfather. “Can we talk for a second, Earl? You shouldn’t be moving the painting from the attic.” 

“Why not? This mansion once belonged to my great grandfather, too.” Jumpol answered distractedly. He was watching Gun happily lead the way. 

“But, Earl…” Chinnarat tried interrupting. That employer of his had no intention of slowing his pace.

“We should talk later, Mr. Chinnarat. This portrait is heavier than it looks. If you’re not willing to help, better get out of the way for now.” Jumpol said coldly.

Chinnarat tensed. “I’m sorry, Earl, let me help. I’ll carry the portrait, Earl.” 

“No need.” Jumpol wasn’t going to stop. He kept walking with Tay to Gun, where he was staring at a bare area on the wall of the second floor balcony, above the ballroom. 

“Right here, Peng?” Tay asked, lowering the portrait carefully, leaning it on the wall. “How are we going to hang it?” 

Jumpol followed Gun’s line of sight. The ghost pointed at the large nail at the top of the wall with his walking stick. He grinned. 

“Look, Peng, there’s still a nail,” Jumpol said to Tay while pointing at the rusty nail.

“We’ll need a ladder, Peng. Is there one we can use, Mr. Chinnarat?” Tay turned to the butler, wondering how to put the large painting up in front of him.

“Earl Jumpol… Off’s portrait is not supposed to be displayed on that wall anymore. Please, listen to me.” 

New, who had kept a cautious amount of steps behind the two young men as they struggled to carry the huge painting out of the attic, stood to the back. His back touched the railings, leaning on it as he observed Chinnarat persist to stop the Earl from installing the portrait. Then he jumped, suddenly understanding why the butler continued to warn his employer.

“Eh, wait, wait, Tay…” New tried to hold Tay back from looking for a ladder. “You’re really not supposed to hang it up there, Earl.” 

Jumpol glared at New.

“I mean…” New rushed out. “Usually, the head of the family is the one that gets their face displayed, Earl. See, everyone who enters the mansion, will automatically see the portrait, therefore they’ll know who the head of the family is. Like in my mansion, we hang my parents’... there are a few of our ancestors as well, though not as big, and definitely not on  _ that  _ wall.” 

Tay scanned New’s face. He quietly pointed to the empty space beside Jumpol, trying to communicate with his eyes. New gasped.  _ Oh right, they brought down the portrait so the ghost can quickly leave. _

“Earl Jumpol, you inherited this mansion five years ago. Your grandfather announced it to us. That was the reason for why he asked us to store the portrait in the attic. He wanted us to put up yours. I hope you can understand your grandfather’s wish.” Chinnarat explained carefully. 

“Eh, uh… Chinnarat…” New attempted to interrupt. “I think it’s fine if we put it up for the time being--” 

“What do you mean, Viscount New. How can that be? It’s disrespectful, as if the house won’t recognize its heir.” Chinnarat crumpled his face.

“Ugh, Chinnarat, do be a little more sensitive…”  _ We have to let the ghost go in peace _ , New continued to himself. “Look, look!” New was suddenly hit with an idea. “Now, Earl Jumpol, stand there,” New asked Jumpol to stand in front of the wall. He then turned to Tay for his help to adjust the portrait upright from its prior leaning position.

“Look, Chinnarat! Earl Off, Earl Jumpol,” New said, alternately pointing between both of them. “There’s no difference, right? Right, Chinnarat… If I was down there, I wouldn’t even be able to tell the Earl’s name on the portrait. Pretend this is Earl Jumpol’s portrait, let’s put it on display for a while… Besides, Earl Jumpol doesn’t have his portrait yet… Oh! Let me and Tay take care of that! Until his portrait is finished, we’ll put this up first. How about it? I’m a genius, aren’t I?” New grinned. 

Chinnarat’s gaze moved back and forth between the two Earls. Five years ago, Jumpol’s grandfather had mentioned how similar his grandson was to his father. He’d repeated the joke so many times whenever they talked on the phone. As soon as he laid sight on Jumpol last night, Chinnarat was surprised to see such a familiar figure in his eyes. But looking at the two Earls from different generations being placed side by side, Chinnarat was truly astonished. New was right, the portrait was the exact replica of Earl Jumpol. 

“You…” Chinnarat stuttered. “...You do resemble your great grandfather very much, Earl.” 

New’s smile bloomed. 

“Right, Chinnarat! Now, come on, help us find a ladder… we have to hurry and put up the portrait,” he said, pushing the butler lightly. Chinnarat couldn’t help but obey his request. 

Tay stared at Chinnarat’s back as the man walked down the stairs, then turned to the older boy. “How did you do that?” Tay’s eyes shimmered in admiration. 

“Eh, do what?” New asked, confused. 

_ You possess something in your voice that manages to hypnotize other people _ , Tay thought to himself. But he shook his head, asking New to ignore that little slip of his tongue.

“Do you really want to take a picture of me, New? I don’t know if I’d like to…” Jumpol suddenly spoke, he was still busy watching Gun pace back and forth beside them. Even though his body was hardly getting warmer, Jumpol could see the happiness radiating from his eyes.

“Please, Earl Jumpol, don’t say that… You have to get one, okay? I think we need to have a great deal of talk about the aristocratic etiquette.” New tried to persuade him. Perhaps with this he could also pass on the final message from his great grandmother to the Adulkittiporn’s heir.

Jumpol tuned New out. His attention was nailed on Gun who was smiling sweetly at his direction. Somehow he now felt the need to follow Chinnarat’s suggestion. They were not supposed to hang his great grandfather’s portrait. He should just let the painting deteriorate in the attic. That way… that way, the ghost didn’t have to leave.

***

**Vineyard Adulkittiporn, Kippen**

**West Stirlingshire, Scotland**

**The Growler That Rolled Over, 1898**

That afternoon Gun Atthaphan was sitting alone inside his carriage, crossing through the Earl Adulkittiporn’s vineyard. He had just returned from the church at the foot of Gargunnock Hills, on his way to go home to his mansion. 

Gun felt his carriage come to a sudden halt. He slid the side window open, asking the coachman curiousedly.

“Forgive me, My Lord. There is a growler that seems to have broken down, it’s blocking the road.” (1)

Gun laid The Raven by Edgar Allan Poe that he had been reading down to the seat next to him, choosing to exit the vehicle. At the front, a growler was almost turned upside down in the middle of the road, and Gun could hear the whine of a restless horse. A man in his twenties, perhaps the growler’s driver, looked like he was having a nasty time calming down his horse as it struggled to break free of its tie with the damaged part of the carriage. Gun walked towards the man.

“My Lord, where are you going?” the Phunsawat’s coachman asked in confusion, seeing his master step out of the carriage.

Gun gave him a once over. “Get down. We need to help him,” he said.

“Eh, very well, My Lord.” 

Gun quickened his strides. The whining horse seemed to start to hurt itself. 

“What happened?” Gun asked, worry in his voice. 

The growler’s driver turned his head to him for a moment, before resuming to pull on his horse’s rein. “My growler slipped, and rolled over, Sir.”

The horse managed to stand, but because it panicked, its movements were uncontrolled as it tried to wrestle out of the carriage’s shackle. Gun approached the muddy horse, caressing its head. 

“Ssshhh…” he said soothingly. “...Shhh...It’s okay, it’s okay… You must remove the hook, Sir,” Gun said, telling the growler to detach the hook that tied the horse.

“But, I’m afraid he will run away, Sir.” 

“He won’t. I will hold it in place. Therefore, it’ll be easier to put your carriage back upright. Please, believe me, I will not hurt your horse.” Gun insisted, still stroking the horse, trying to calm him down. 

“Trust the Viscount, Sir. Let me help,” Gun’s coachman joined in to assure him. 

Hearing the coachman mention Gun’s title, the growler’s driver gasped. “You’re a Viscount?! I’m so sorry, My Lord. Ah, what have I done!” the growler’s driver exclaimed agitatedly. “Please let go of my horse, My Lord, just let me… You’ve dirtied your clothes.” 

Gun hurried to shake his head, refusing to withdraw his hand from the horse. “Don’t pay any mind to that, Sir. I won’t ask you to wash my clothes. Now, let’s remove the hook. I will help soothe your horse.” 

The two coachmen swiftly followed as Gun ordered. The horse started to stop whimpering right after the carriage’s hook fell from his neck and chest. 

“Ssshhh… it’s alright now… are you thirsty, hmm?” Gun turned to the growler’s driver, who was busy mourning for his carriage. “Did you bring any water, Sir?” 

The growler’s driver extended a bottle of water to Gun. “You shouldn’t call me that, My Lord. My name is Toyy.” 

Gun smiled, taking the water bottle, then shifted to the horse beside him. “Are you thirsty, hmm?... Here, drink up.” 

The horse neighed cheerfully. He swung his head around, splattering the mud his body was drenched in everywhere. Some of it splashed Gun’s face and his coat. His laughter spilled out of his mouth, patting the horse’s back.

Earl Off Adulkittporn was viewing the whole scene through the gaps between his grape vines.

Gun observed the turned over part of the carriage, noticing some sacks were peeking through the window. “I think you ought to unload the goods first, before lifting the carriage back up to stand, Mr. Toyy.”

“Hahhh… ‘Suppose there’s really no other way, My Lord.” Toyy sighed. Baron Wanchana Sawasdee would certainly rip him to shreds after this. 

“What are you delivering anyway, Mr Toyy? Seems like those sacks shouldn’t be carried by a one-horse growler.” 

“Baron Wanchana ordered me to lug as many as possible so it'd only be a one-time journey, My Lord. I’m carrying wheat.” Toy answered, grabbing the wheat sacks out of the carriage with Gun’s coachman. 

_ Ck, that bastard! _ Gun thought. It had only been two months since he’d moved to Kippen, but Gun had heard countless bad stories regarding the Baron. Beside slipping and falling into a mudhole, Gun figured it also turned over because the carriage couldn’t handle the overload.

“You, yourself, have you settled in Kippen for long, My Lord? I’ve never seen you around before.” 

“Viscount Gun, the son of Viscount Phunsawat, Sir. The Phunsawat family has only stayed for two months,” Gun’s coachman took the initiative to answer his question.

Gun smiled. He resumed his attention to Toyy’s horse, who was already stepping his hooves in excitement, impatient to continue the trip. Gun patted him lovingly. 

In that moment, Off and his exasperating grin chose to jump out from behind the grape bushes. Gun felt the hair on his body bristle all over so suddenly.

“Good afternoon, My Lord.” 

Gun spun to the source of the voice, his eyes widening. “Earl!” he exclaimed.  For the sake of all the Phunsawat ancestors, why must he of all people encounter the son of the Earl again.

“What are you doing here, Earl Off?” Gun asked lightly, trying to cover his irritation.

Off raised his shoulders, keeping the grin intact. “Checking up on my grape plants,” he said, nonchalant. “What on earth are you guys doing here?” 

“Ah, Earl Off. Good afternoon, Earl. I apologize, My Lord, my carriage fell over.” Toyy explained in short, still hauling the sacks out of his carriage. Gun’s coachman only nodded and smiled appropriately.

Off blinked an eye to Gun, and walked towards the two drivers. Gun frowned.  _ What did he mean by winking like that? _

“Eh, Earl, what are you doing?” Toyy knitted his eyebrows in confusion at Off who was approaching him. The Earl’s son only shrugged, and wordlessly joined them in lifting the sacks out onto the road. 

“Earl!” Toyy yelled, panicked. “You shouldn’t do that, Earl! Let them be, we’ll carry them out ourselves. You can’t--” Off deadpanned at Toy. “You’ll dirty your clothes, My Lord. Please, don’t do this…”

“Sssttt... don’t speak too much. If the three of us work together, the faster we'll finish,” Off said, face disinterested.

Red crept to Toyy’s face, he felt Off was pushed to help him because he had been moving too slow. “I’m very sorry, Earl. I am very sorry for blocking your way. I.. eh, we, will work faster…” 

Off clicked his tongue. “Ck. That’s not what I meant, dummy. Nevermind, let’s just get the rest out.” 

Gun inched closer to the growler’s snickering horse, not caring about the growing patches of mud on his coat. He desperately tried to hold in his laughter seeing the Earl’s son grumble under his breath as he carried the sacks on his shoulder. 

Not too long later on, the growler finally managed to stand, and the wheat sacks were loaded back inside. Fortunately, not one of them had ripped and leaked out. Although the Baron would still have Toyy’s head on a stick for failing to deliver on time, at least his goods were still in fine shape. After expressing his gratitude and apologizing numerous times for causing filth on Gun’s face and coat, Toyy bade his farewell. 

“I feel we must part ways from here as well, Earl Off. Thank you for your help.” Gun bowed, then walked back to his carriage. His coachman had already stood by the side to open the door for him. 

Off pulled Gun’s right arm from the back, holding him in place. Gun turned around, frowning at him. 

“Take me home,” Off grinned. 

Gun stared in disbelief, “Earl Off, in case you’ve forgotten, our mansions are to the opposite directions. I passed by your house a few miles back. Are you implying I should make a special case for you?"

“Are you implying I should walk on foot? With dirt for clothes?” Off sulked, revealing his wheat covered coat.

Gun massaged his temples. Earl Off Adulkittiporn seemed to be created by God to disrupt his peaceful life. “Where’s your carriage, Earl Off?” Gun asked patiently.

“I told my man to go home just earlier. I was right across from there,” he said, pointing to the vineyard behind him, “...Happened to hear the commotion, so I came. Now, you must take responsibility, Gun. Take me home.” 

Gun really wished to ask more questions, but he was too lazy to argue. He sighed, electing to remove his dirty coat off and fold it to his body, before entering the carriage. 

“Turn around to the Earl’s mansion first,” Gun requested his coachman. Off grinned.

The Phunsawat’s carriage galloped through the stretch of vineyard, towards the small hill where the mansion of the Adulkittiporn family grandly rose.

***

“There’s still some near your eye, Gun.” Off pointed to his right eye, as Gun occupied himself with cleaning the mud on his face. They sat face to face inside the carriage. 

Gun directed his handkerchief to the spot that Off pointed, but it failed to reach the stain. 

Off shook his head, extending his arm to finish the job. 

Gun froze.

“You know, Gun,” Off stared deep into Gun’s eyes. “The other day, I managed to bring home many of the stars in your eyes, but you only kept adding more.” 

!!!!!

Gun jerked his head towards the window. A warm blush spread on his face. Why? For the sake of the Phunsawat ancestors, Gun had known the bastard would say the first thing that crossed his mind, but he could never be prepared for any of it. Would it ever be possible for the Earl’s son to speak what’s commonly comprehensible?

Gun waited, but the burst of laughter never came from the young man beside him. 

Off sighed, “I’m serious, you know.” 

Deg.

“Serious in what?” Gun squeaked out, not daring to look away from the window. 

Off exhaled once more. 

“Seriously teasing you… Hahahahaha…” laughter flowed out of his throat, resonating inside the carriage. 

Arrghhh! Goddamn it! 

Remind Gun to never,  _ ever _ , step into the jerk’s trap again!

“I love seeing you getting flustered,” Off continued in the midst of his fit. 

“I’m not flustered. You’re hallucinating.” 

“Eh, really? Why don’t you look at me then, I’d like to see it for myself.” 

“I don’t want to. Quit pestering me, Earl.” 

Off leaned back dramatically. “Hahhh… Do you know, Gun, just how many nobles are like you in all of Britain?” 

“No. I have no clue what you’re talking about.” 

“Just exactly how many nobles are willing to get down from their carriage, letting their coat get soaked in mud only to calm a mere horse.” 

“I was in no place to refuse. The growler was blocking my path.” 

Off chuckled. “You can’t even lie.” 

Gun kept quiet. He was still busy acting interested with whatever it was in the glass window.

“Hey, Gun, isn't it impertinent to speak without facing one's company? What else is being taught in the Phunsawat household, hmm? Other than letting their guests leave before even offering them a drink.”

Gun turned his head so fast, he heard a snap. The young man in front of him flashed him his annoying grin. “You will also bring that up?” 

Off nodded cheerfully. He started counting, holding up his fingers. “You wore  _ that _ , danced, retched under my magnolia tree, spat darjeeling on me, hit me with a bow, cast me away without offering me a drink… soiling my coat with wheat grains…” 

Gun stared in disbelief. The audacity of this bastard…

“I didn’t even ask for your help, and it was still my fault?” Gun glared.

“Eh, who says I view them as mistakes?” Off asked in false puzzled expression. 

“What do you call them then? Scandals?” Gun retorted, challenging.

Off shook his head. “A list of  _ charming _ things Gun Atthaphan has done to me,” he answered with his grin intact. 

_ Askdsjkasfkdfh! _

Gun had begun to imagine that they actually spoke different languages. He quickly fumbled for the copy of The Raven he had abandoned earlier next to him, choosing to continue his reading by raising the book to cover his face. Muffling out the laughter of the mad young man in front of him. 

As Off’s outburst of elation slowly dissipated, he observed the title on the cover of the book that Gun had not realized was faced towards him. “You read The Raven, Gun?” 

Gun, who was still hiding his eyes behind the book, answered disinterestedly. “Why? Would you like to mock me again for not reading Plato?” 

A deafening silence blanketed them suddenly. Off was not retorting his remark. Gun was curious about what made the young man fall quiet, but he was not yet willing to look up from the book, afraid he’d get teased again. 

“ _ Deep into that darkness peering… _ ” Off’s voice was heard. Gun maintained his rigid position. 

“ _...Long I stood there wondering… _ ” 

Gun froze. 

“ _... Fearing… Doubting… _ ” 

Gun slowly moved The Raven down from his face. 

“ _....Dreaming dreams no mortal ever dared to dream before. _ ” (2) 

Gun stared at the young man who was returning his gaze with a genuine smile.

“Edgar Allan Poe, 1845... Do you know what I dream of, Viscount Gun Atthaphan Phunsawat?” 

Gun hadn’t blinked, he could not move his eyes from the pull of the pair of onyx beads right in front of him. 

“Spending my time with you for eternity, My Star-stealing Aster.”

Gun was aware half his face and neck were in flames. But he remained nailed to this position, letting Off extend his fingers, caressing his face gently. 

The sole heir of Earl Adulkittiporn carefully drew closer until their faces were only a hair’s breadth. A pair of onyx darted to the rosy soft lips. 

Gun Atthaphan Phunsawat had spent his afternoon at church, the sky had not even grown dark yet and he had just sinned. 

***

**Number 31A, Kippen**

**West Stirlingshire, Scotland**

**End of June, 2000**

“Careful, Earl.” 

Chinnarat sweat over Jumpol and Tay who were trying to climb up the rung ladder to hang Earl Off’s portrait on the wall. 

Very slowly they put the frame up to its original place before its relocation five years ago, hooking the end of the rope to the big nail on the wall of the balcony. 

Jumpol secretly wished the rope would break apart. He turned to the ghost who was floating near the edge of the balcony, eyes glimmering at his great grandfather’s portrait. Ah, he was supposed to leave in peace, not feel miserable for being tethered here. How could Jumpol feel selfish all of a sudden, wanting to keep him in this place a little longer?

The two best friends stepped off the ladder. They admired the Adulkittiporn ancestor in silence. 

Off looked at Gun again. The portrait was hung perfectly. It was time to say goodbye. 

1

2

3

Gun’s cheeks bloomed. A beautiful dimple etched his cheek. “Off’s returned now. I’ve waited for what seems like forever, but Off has returned.” 

Gun drifted to Jumpol’s side. He smiled again, and laid his head on Jumpol’s right shoulder. The heir of Earl Adulkittiporn shivered as cold air ambushed him.

Uh, wait a second. 

“Gun?” 

“Hmm?” 

“Your wish is granted. You’re not leaving?”    
Gun’s figure went rigid. He drifted away, eyes shining in disbelief. 

“Off wants me gone?” Jumpol recognized the hurt in his eyes.

Huh?

“I waited for so long, and now Off casts me away?” 

Wait, wait, what was happening? 

“You said you’d return! You said you’d come back to me!” 

Gun began to sob mercilessly.

“I waited for you here… it’s been so long … You said we would find a way out. You said you would find a way out! Why are you doing this to me, Off? Why did you do this to me…” 

Jumpol couldn’t move. 

Cold enveloped them. The balcony on the second floor froze at once. 

“Oi, Peng…” Tay tried calling out to his best friend, heart thumping anxiously beneath his chest. New hid himself behind his back. Chinnarat watched the three with curiosity.

A painful weep echoed across the whole second floor. 

“Tayyy…” New squeezed Tay’s shoulders with steel fingers, his face as white as chalk.

Jumpol flinched. “Gun?” He tried to approach him, not quite understanding where he had done wrong. 

Gun rested the weight of his head onto his palms. His eyes dimmed. He dashed away from the balcony, moving along the corridor of Jumpol’s bedroom. 

“Gun!” Jumpol ran after him. Something was wrong, something had gone wrong.

Gun flew to the attic. The sound  _ Draakk!  _ was deafening, the window which almost cost Jumpol his life in opening it just earlier this morning, snapped shut. 

“Gun!” 

The ladder which hung from the ceiling, the access to the attic, was also folded and closed right in front of him. Jumpol widened his eyes. He repeatedly pressed the hidden button, but the ladder would not swing down.

“Gun! Open the door, damn it! What are you doing in there?!” 

Jumpol could hear the rough noises of a ruckus from inside the attic. 

“Gun! I said open it!” He kept pushing the button. 

“Gun!!!” 

The noises diminished, the air was suddenly too quiet. Jumpol could feel warmth was gradually flowing back into the second floor. He pushed the button forcefully. This time, finally, the ladder slid down. Jumpol rushed and climbed up the steps. 

He gaped. 

The attic was in ruins. Chunks of wooden boxes broke into giant splinters. Trinkets and junks were scattered all over. 

Jumpol scanned the room, but nobody was in sight. 

Gun was not there. 

“Goddamn it, Gun!!” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (1) Growler = some kind of a rental cab in the Victorian Era.   
> (2) Edgar Allan Poe -- The Raven, 1845.
> 
> aaa sorry for taking so long again T_T anyways i had some help translating this chapter and the previous one. thank you so much to @gunatpie on twitter ily <3


	10. The Reminiscence Bump (Part 1)

**Number 31A, Kippen**

**West Stirlingshire, Scotland**

**End of June, 2000**

Jumpol twisted and turned under his comforter. Something cold was running through his hair. Feeling frustrated, he covered his head with the blanket. His body was curled up in the middle of the bed, before he realized. He recognized the creature mad enough to interrupt him in his sleep.

Jumpol slowly lowered the blanket down from his face, eyeing Gun as the latter turned his back, ready to flee from him. Jumpol yanked Gun’s wrist in a spontaneous decision, making him sit on the bed. 

“Why did you destroy the attic?” Jumpol pushed. He tightened the grip on his hand.

Gun looked up in panic, trying to escape with all his might. 

“Let go, Off,” he demanded, voice hard. 

Jumpol glared back just as sharp.

“Why? Can’t you go through me? If you really want it, just do it.” 

Gun pulled on his wrist with futile efforts. 

_ Hmm, interesting _ , Jumpol thought. He could not get himself out of his grip. 

Jumpol slammed Gun’s back onto the mattress. He covered the ghost up to his neck, reducing the piercing cold his body emitted. He pinned his wrist down to the bed. 

“Answer me! Why did you destroy the attic?” 

Gun averted his gaze, not daring to return Jumpol’s. His face was unreadable. 

“Leaving the attic in shambles, scaring everybody… New might not even come back here. What do you want?” Jumpol pressed, desperately holding back his anger. 

Gun turned his head, eyes growing sombre. “You’re hurting me,” he whispered.

Jumpol raised his eyebrows. He exhaled slowly, calming himself down, carefully loosening his grip on Gun’s wrist. “Where does it hurt? Does your hand hurt?” He asked gently. 

Gun shook his head. He shifted his eyes again, staring at anything but the Adulkittiporn’s heir in front of him. One by one his tears slid down his cheek.

“Hey… don’t cry. Why do you cry so easily, Gun?” Jumpol rubbed the part on his wrist where he’d held him. The skin was cold, pale, almost skeletal. “I’m sorry… ssshhh… I’m really sorry,” he said, wiping a tear on the ghost’s face.

“If I'd made a mistake… or if I'd hurt you, just tell me. Don’t run away and disappear or go on a rampage like that. You don’t want to hurt people, do you? … Now explain, I've done what you asked of me, my great grandfather’s portrait has been returned to its place, but you’re still here. So tell me, what did I do wrong?” 

“You wanted me gone.” Gun kept sobbing.

Jumpol sighed. “Gun, listen, you showed up to me because you want to leave here peacefully, right? You have an unfinished business, that’s why you came to me. I’m trying to help you, okay? So, what is it that you want? … I don’t understand.” 

“Don’t speak to me like that.” 

“Like what?” 

“Like… as if Off doesn’t know me.” 

Jumpol jerked away. “Huh? I don’t know you. And please, stop calling me Off, my name is Jumpol. You may know my great grandfather, but we don’t know each other, understood?” 

“Lies.” 

“Gun, please… My great grandfather has been dead for a long time, even before I was born. What is keeping you here, hmm? Tell me… returning the portrait, that’s not your true wish, is it?” 

“I don’t know.” Gun laid down, and slung his arm across his eyes. He held back the tears that would not stop flowing. His body grew colder. 

“Gun… I’m trying to help you. Please, don’t make this harder for the both of us.” 

“If I tell you…” Gun said between his sobs. He lowered his arm, staring Jumpol right in the eyes. “If I tell you, you must promise to grant me what I ask.” 

“Gun… How can I promise that?” 

“You must promise!” Gun insisted. 

Jumpol drew a deep breath, not knowing what to do anymore.

“Alright, I promise. What do you want?’ 

Gun rose from his sleeping position, sat in front of Jumpol, and embraced the young man in his arms. Jumpol was shocked, cold stinging his bones. 

“Gun…” 

“Remember me, Off,” Gun whispered as he cried, “Come home… come back to me, I’m begging you.” 

“Gun, but I’m not--” 

“You promised…” Gun pressed in a hushed voice, “...You promised. I’m begging you.” 

Jumpol sighed again, throwing his head back to the ceiling of the room. Hahhh… this was more complicated than Gunsmile. This was more complicated than anything he had ever dealt with. 

_ What did my great grandfather do to you, hey Gun _ … Jumpol thought to himself. Unconsciously he wrapped his arms around him, letting the ghost cry profusely into his chest. 

In the distance, Jumpol heard the midnight bells, perhaps from the church at the foot of Gargunnock Hills. The cold ambushed him, he reached for the blanket, wrapping their bodies close, wishing for the warmth that never came. 

***

_ “Achoo!” _

“Are you okay, Peng?” Tay stared worriedly at Jumpol. All morning, that best friend of his had not stopped sneezing. They were mourning the battered attic, contemplating which corner deserved the first clean-up. 

Jumpol massaged his forehead, his head swimming a little. Perhaps he needed sunlight.

“I slept with Gun last night…  _ Achoo! _ ” He said, struggling to open the window, letting the morning rays filter in and warm his body. 

Tay choked. “What did you say, Peng? I think I heard it wrong.” 

“I slept with Gun. I was freezing all night, that’s why I have a cold.” 

Tay gaped. Jumpol turned to him, raising his eyebrows in question. A second later, he realized what his best friend was thinking. 

Jumpol quickly walked over to Tay, slapping the back of his head in annoyance. 

“Sleep, Tay,  _ sleep. _ Quit it with the perverted face, you’re insane!”

“You’re the pervert!” Tay replied, rubbing the back of his head. “I mean, you slept with him? Have you forgotten what he did yesterday?... Look at this, he destroyed the attic... Were you not afraid? What if he destroyed  _ you _ too?”

Jumpol walked back to the window, peering out, trying to warm his head. “He won’t, Tay. Gun won’t dare to hurt me.”

“Well, I’m glad you’re sure of yourself. Just yesterday you said he wouldn’t scare us anymore, but see what happened. I feel really bad for New, I don’t think he’ll even come back here, Peng…” 

“Do you also want to return to London?” 

“How can I? I’m still your best friend. Besides, if we don’t end it here, he’ll probably follow you to Oxford. Can you imagine if he throws a fit like this in our dorm?” Tay lamented the mercilessly scattered objects on the floor. 

“Aisshhh…” Jumpol shuffled his hair in frustration. “But, what he asks of me is impossible, Tay.”

“What  _ does  _ he want? You haven’t told me… And what happened yesterday? Why should we bother to put back your great grandfather’s portrait if that wouldn't change anything? Hhhh…he even threw a big tantrum at the end.” 

Jumpol turned to Tay again, a pained expression on his face. 

“Gun wants me to remember him.” 

Tay raised an eyebrow, “What does that mean?” 

“He thinks I’m my great grandfather. He thinks I’m Off… Gun flipped out yesterday because he thought I was driving him away. He wants Off to remember him again, I don’t know what he means by that either… I wonder what my great grandfather did to him. He looks miserable…” Jumpol said, staring into nothing. 

“What? How do you remember him, you don’t even know each other…” 

“That’s why I said it’s impossible, Tay.”

Tay sighed, his friend’s current sluggish figure and grumpy mood suddenly made sense. 

“Uh, why not just ask him? Tell Gun to help you _ remember. _ ”

“I tried, Tay. He didn’t even want to say his full name. Gun wants me to remember it by myself, not because he reminds me.” 

“God, Peng… Should we just call the priest? Mr. Chinnarat’s acquaintance, Peng…”

Jumpol threw his gaze behind Tay, then shook his head. “I don’t want Gun to get hurt.”  _ I might not remember you, but I want to know you. _

“But, whether you agree or not, if we go back to London and he still has anger management issues, Mr. Chinnarat and I are still going to call the priest, Peng.” Tay tried to threaten. 

Jumpol looked away to the window, not rejecting nor agreeing to his best friend’s suggestion. 

“By the way, where’s he?” 

Jumpol cast a glance behind Tay once more. “Come here, Tay,” he called. 

“Why?” 

“The sun is warm.” 

“What the hell, Peng.” Tay snorted, but obliged. 

“Do you feel cold, Tay?” 

Tay shook his head, giving him a questioning look. 

“Hhhh… Gun’s been sulking behind you for a while.” 

Tay spun around immediately, then let out a high note screech, “Peeeengggggg!” 

***

**Sangpotirat Mansion, Kippen**

**West Stirlingshire, Scotland Christian**

**Krist’s Birthday, 1898**

“Waiting for who?” Singto sipped his glass of wine, before handing the empty glass to the waiter with a tray that happened to pass by them. He frowned at his friend, Off Adulkittiporn, who repeatedly stretched his neck towards the entrance then sighed in disappointment.

“What did you say, Singto?” The Earl Adulkittiporn’s only son stood agitated in the corner of the ballroom. His fingers kept fidgeting absentmindedly with the buttons of his knee-length steampunk coat. 

“Who are you waiting for? Have pity for the girls, they can’t take their eyes off of you… I’m quite sure most of them have made bets by now on whose hand you’ll pull to the dance floor at the end of the night.”

Singto glanced at the girls clustered across the room. They were whispering suspiciously. Some of them sighed, seemingly giving up on any chance to catch Off’s attention, and choosing to dance with other nobles who gladly offered themselves up on a plate. 

Off glanced briefly at the girls, “You go ahead, Sing, I’m not interested…” He stopped a waiter, grabbed a glass of wine, and took a hasty sip. “Are you certain Krist invited everyone in Kippen?” 

“Of course, Earl Off… I helped Krist, I checked twice, it’s impossible that I missed anyone... ” Singto peered to the entrance too, his curiosity got the best of him. “Who is it, though? I wonder what sort of girl is capable of making this much of a wreck out of my best friend.” 

Off turned to Singto, intending to deny his friend’s remark. But before a word came out, a guard by the entrance loudly announced the arrival of the Phunsawat siblings. Off grinned. 

“Really? Phunsawat?” Singto looked at his friend in disbelief. 

“Singto, take this…” Off shoved the rest of his wine to Singto. 

“Pim Phunsawat? Did she dance that well you couldn’t wait to do it with her again?”

Off waved his hand, dismissing Singto’s comment. He chose to walk hastily over to Viscount Phunsawat’s son as the young man removed his top hat.

“My Lady… you are late,” Off greeted the twins, his smile blooming. 

Pim bent her legs gracefully, “Good evening, Earl Off… My brother is a hard one to persuade, Earl. He almost didn’t want to come--” 

“Pim.” Gun glared at his sister. He handed his top hat and walking stick to the waiter, then setting his hair a little. 

“Why? It’s true,” Pim pouted. “Excuse me, Earl Off, I’d like to see my friends.” Pim bent her legs again, politely leaving. 

“Don’t get too far from me, Pim.” 

Gun grabbed his younger sister’s wrist, stopping her from moving. 

“Brother…” Pim roller her eyes. She pulled her hand from Gun’s grip. “Baron Wanchana is not coming, let me have a bit of fun, alright? You should too,” she continued, giving him a wink and ruffling his hair mischievously. 

“Wh--Oi, Pim!” Gun was about to protest, but his sister was already halfway across the room laughing. He combed his hair with his hand in annoyance. 

“Pfftt!” 

Gun turned his head to Off who was trying to hold back his laughter. 

“What?” Gun asked, challenging. 

Off let his laughter explode, the Viscount Phunsawat’s son never failed to make him laugh. “You’re not fit to be Pim’s elder, Gun. You’re more suited to be her kid brother,” he mocked.

Gun sighed. _ It’s only been five minutes, Gun, you must learn to be patient with this astral being.  _

“Is that all, Earl Off? If it is, then you’ll have to excuse me.” Gun intended to step away, as far from Off’s reach as possible. He wasn’t willing to spend the night trapped with the bastard, in which he would only end up engaging his sanity-draining rambling. 

“Eh, wait, Gun!” Off swiftly grabbed Gun’s arm, keeping him in place. “Why are you in such a hurry… Come, I’ll introduce you to my best friend.” 

“No need, Earl Off, I can make my own acquaintance.” 

Off pretended not to hear Gun’s protest, dragging the young man with a smile, leaving Gun no choice but to follow his long strides. Gun stumbled, half-shuffling behind Off. 

“What the hell, Earl Off. Let me go!” Gun tugged at his hand, but the Earl’s son tightened his grip. 

“Not a chance, you’ll run otherwise.” 

“Let go, Earl Off. People are staring.” 

“Tsk. Let them.” 

_ Damned bastard! Why would a mad man like him have the strength of a bull? _ Gun grimaced, pain digging in his arm. He didn’t have a choice but to keep his head down and quicken his steps. 

“By the way, why did Pim say you almost didn’t come?” 

“Because I'm certain, you must be here too,” said Gun sharply. Viscount Krist Sangpotirat had invited all the young unmarried men and women in Kippen. And given his reputation as a Casanova, not to mention a best friend to Krist himself, the son of Earl Adulkittiporn wouldn’t have missed the party for the world. 

Off halted in his steps. He released his grip, spinning to face Gun. “Aw…” Off clutched his chest, his face a false show of sorrow, “... you hurt me.”

Gun spat, figuratively, “You needn’t pretend, Earl. Acting doesn’t suit you.” 

“Hmm…” Off grinned, “...your words are getting sharper, Gun. Ever since you drove me home and in the carriage we--” 

Gun paled, without thinking far he covered Off’s mouth with his palm at haste, then just as quick also pulled his hand back. He scowled. “Quit saying nonsense, Earl Off. We didn’t do anything in the carriage.” 

The Adulkittiporn’s heir grinned wider. “Well, we really didn’t…” He looked down, moving his face closer, “... because you smacked me before we could even do  _ anything _ ,” he whispered in Gun’s ear. 

Gun stepped back. “I’d like to go to my sister, Earl Off. Excuse me,” he said quickly. He turned around, hiding his flushed face and neck, either out of anger, humiliation, or both. 

“Eits…” Off held him in place again, “... let your sister have her fun, Gun.” He cast his glance down once more, whispering suggestively. “Tonight… you have fun with me.” 

Gun blushed even more, but his eyes were restless. “You--you are in no place to say such things to me… you don’t--” 

Laughter spilled out of Off’s mouth. “Gun…. hahahaha. My God, Gun, I was joking…” 

Gun gaped. 

“Hey, hey, I’m sorry, okay? Did I frighten you? … I was really only joking, Gun, I’m very sorry… I will not do anything to you. Promise.” Off stuck out his pinkie finger for Gun. 

Gun stared in disbelief. 

Off touched his own cheek. “Besides… I can still feel the heat of your slap on my cheek,” he added with a grin. 

!!!!!

Why? Why did Gun always have to be humiliated during every exchange with the Earl’s son?

_ Huhuhu I could just die… _

“Hush, Gun… don’t ever say that. Please forgive me.” 

_ He? Did I say that out loud?  _

“Yes, Gun, you said it out loud,” Off chuckled. “Come on, I’ll introduce you to Singto.” Off pulled Gun gently. 

Gun could only comply, not knowing what other choice he had. 

***

Viscount Singto Prachaya Ruangroj stood against the wall. He slipped his hands in the pockets of his pants, eyes glued to the dance floor. Many pairs had started to dance to brighten up the ballroom, but he could not tear his gaze away from the figure of his best friend laughing lively during the waltz. Krist, on his 19th birthday tonight, seemed to be in very high spirits. If he hadn’t miscalculated, and Singto was sure he hadn’t, the young man had changed dancing partners five times.

Tonight, unlike usual, Earl Adulkittiporn’s son had not asked anyone to dance. The younger man was instead busy chatting with Viscount Phunsawat’s children. The girls across the room seemed to have given up on Off, switching their attentions to rather secure a dance out of Krist. Singto watched it all with a bitter taste in his mouth, although he tried his damndest to keep his face a stony mask.

The music changed, Johann Strauss II’s Wiener Blut fluttered among the walls. 

Singto’s ears felt hot, but his eyes were burning. Krist changed his partner for the sixth time. He tightened his grip on Off’s leftover wine glass, and gulped it empty. If looks could kill, those girls would’ve had holes in their heads from the start. 

_ Hahhh…  _ Singto sighed. He stopped a waiter, and switched his empty wine glass with a full one.

Singto sipped his wine, catching sight of the Viscount Phunsawat’s daughter ambling gracefully towards the group of girls across the room.  _ Huh, wasn’t Off going to ask her to dance? _

Singto turned his head to the entrance, where he saw Off walking towards him, grinning while dragging Gun Atthaphan by the hand. Singto released the glass from his lips, a bad feeling rising at the pit of his stomach. 

“Hey, Singto… this is Viscount Phunsawat’s son.” Off shifted to the side, showing a young man behind his back. 

The young man threw Off a hostile look, but then smiled graciously to Singto. “Good evening, Viscount Ruangroj.”

_ Ah, he’s cute… _ Singto thought. He raised an eyebrow to Off, wordlessly uttering his confusion. 

“Just Singto… Gun Atthaphan, am I correct?” Singto offered his hand. 

Viscount Phunsawat’s son nodded with his smile still intact, a pair of dimples adorning his face. He firmly shook Singto’s hand.

“I apologize for the out of the blue encounter, Viscount Singto. Someone  _ forced  _ me to approach you…” 

“Hey!” Off exclaimed, denying that statement. “I was only trying to help you socialize, Gun… You’ve been in Kippen for three months but you haven’t known that many people, have you?” 

“My, I am forever grateful for your generosity, Earl Off… What would I be without you…” 

Singto stifled his laughter. He could clearly hear the sarcasm from Gun’s tone. 

Off grinned. “That’s right. How can you ever survive without me, Gun?” 

!!!!!

“Viscount Singto, did you hear anything? I seem to have heard a nasty buzz near my ear,” Gun shifted towards Singto, a step away from Off.

Singto laughed. He drank the rest of his wine, staring straight at the two nuisances in front of him. “How come I didn’t you two have gotten this close? Since when?” Singto turned to Off, curious.

“We are not close, Viscount Singto,” Gun interrupted immediately. 

Off grinned wider. “Since the Spring Ba--Ack! Gun!” 

Gun hurriedly stepped on Off’s foot, his eyes glaring in warning. Bastard!  _ You’ve promised to never bring up that topic anymore, damn you! _

“Why, Gun, Singto is my best friend… even if he knows, nothing will ever happen to you,” Off grumbled. Gun flushed red.

“Viscount Singto, whatever Earl Off says, please do not believe a word. Whatever Earl Off tells you about me, none of it is true. Excuse me…” Gun bowed his head politely, about to leave the two young men. Singto frowned at him, not quite grasping what he meant.

“Ck! Where are you going?” Off pulled Gun’s hand once again. His face seemed upset.

_ What? I’m the one who should be upset here!  _ Gun yanked his own hand away, but Off remained to be stubborn.

“Where are you going?” Off asked once more.

“To dance!” Gun scoffed, as he kept pulling on his hand to no avail.

“Oh…” Off grinned, “Alright, let’s go… Bye, Singto!”

Off sauntered the dance floor, cheerily dragging Gun along with him.

“Huh?” Gun widened his eyes at the crazy young man. “Earl Off!” He roughly wrenched his hand free from his grasp.

Off turned around. “What is it now, Gun? You said you wanted to dance…” 

“Listen, Earl Off! I never asked you to danc--Hahhh…”  _ For the sake of all Phunsawat ancestors!  _ Gun blew a long breath, trying to calm himself. “Do tell me, Earl Off, have I ever wronged you by mistake? Why do you keep on bothering my life?” Gun massaged his temples, he felt utterly tired.

“Don’t dance with anyone else but me,” Off pouted, arms crossed on his chest. “I’d get jealous.”

Singto choked.

_ Oiiii! _ Gun wanted nothing more than to rinse the Earl’s arrogant face off with a glass of wine. His face reddened, barely a sliver of patience left in his body.

“Conversing with you only brings me a headache, Earl Off. Pardon me.”

Gun avoided the young man as fast as lightning. Off doubled up with laughter, he let the Viscount Phunsawat’s son walk further away to the dance floor. 

***

**Number 31A, Kippen**

**West Stirlingshire, Scotland**

**End of June, 2000**

Jumpol and Tay tiptoed carefully, trying to avoid the shards of wood on the floor. They focused on collecting all scattered useful stuff, mostly books. As Mr. Chinnarat had mentioned to them, the objects in the attic belonged to Jumpol’s great grandfather. Five years ago, when Jumpol’s grandfather had decided to sell the house number 31A, he’d hoarded every asset of Earl Off’s up there, then had hidden the access altogether. Jumpol’s grandfather had intended for his father’s past to remain as a part of the house, despite it having the possibility of not falling into the hands of an Adulkittiporn one day. But, for a reason that Mr. Chinnarat hadn't revealed yet, the house had been withdrawn from the market at the end, and ended up given to Jumpol instead.

“Your family used to own a vineyard, Peng? Wow!” Tay flipped the old map back and forth in his hand, he seemed like outlining the perimeters of the Adulkittiporn vineyard.

“Vineyard? Oh, I guess so … I think my grandfather told me once. What do you see, Tay?” Jumpol added one more book to the stack in the corner. 

Tay held out the old map to Jumpol. “Here… That wide, Peng! Insane! Why would your family waste the business in Kippen and move to London?”

Jumpol shrugged, scanning the map for a moment, before throwing it onto the stack in the corner with the others.

“It’s almost lunch, and we haven’t found anything that could be helpful, Peng… I’m starting to lose hope.” Tay put his head down, snatching one more neglected book on the floor, secretly thinking about his Leica perching by itself on his bedside table. Aaaahh, he wanted to take pictures around Kippen with New. 

“What’s that, Tay?” Jumpol hurriedly walked over to Tay.

Tay observed the book in his hand, the cover was black with an illustration of a raven at the front. “The Raven? Looks like some type of a storybook…” Tay handed the book to Jumpol. 

Jumpol accepted it agitatedly. Something about the book pinched at his throat. Just suddenly he was hit with a yearning for something, no clue as to what. 

“It’s filled with poetry…” Jumpol flipped through the pages of the poetry book, “... Edgar Allan Poe, I didn’t think my great grandfather would have a penchant for literature.”

He was about to put it to the stack with the rest of the books in the corner. But he accidentally opened the first page, his eyes were pulled to the faint curve of ink at the bottom right:  _ G. A. Phunsawat. _ Jumpol felt an excruciating sense of sorrow stabbing him in the chest.

“Oi, Peng … I may have found something interesting. Eh, Peng! What’s going on?” Tay quickly crossed the room to Jumpol, who had sat and was currently holding his chest.

Jumpol shook his head, slowly adjusting his thunderous breath.  _ What sort of feeling is this? _ “Where is Gun?” he asked through a choked voice.

Tay watched him in worry, dropping to his knees beside his best friend. 

“How would I know, Peng… What happened to you? Hey, Peng, you’re scaring me. Are you okay?”

Jumpol looked around the attic, but Gun was not there. “Sorry… It’s okay, I’m okay, Tay…” he said, calming. “What did you find?” 

“Are you sure?” Tay was still staring skeptically. He extended a handkerchief. “There’s an embroidery of an initial at the bottom … Here,” he said while showing the embroidery that he’d meant. 

_ G.A.P. _

Jumpol was stunned. For some reason he had the biggest urge to cry. With trembling hands he took the handkerchief, clutching it close to his chest. Jumpol tried as he might to quiet his head, painting a smile as genuine as possible. 

“It’s almost lunch, Tay. We should have lunch first. I’ll see you at the dining table … there’s something I have to grab in my room. Bye, Tay....” he said, climbing carefully down the ladder, out of the attic. 

Tay frowned. “Are you sure you’re fine, Peng?” he called, following Jumpol. 

“Hmm…” Jumpol hummed tersely, before disappearing behind the door of his room. 

***

Jumpol slid his body down against the door, still hugging the handkerchief and the book close to him. It was as if he’d lost the most precious thing in his life. Even the loss of his grandfather had not caused him this much pain.  _ What is happening to me? _

“Gun…” he whispered.

Jumpol rose to his feet, walking towards the red sofa near the window. His gaze was fixed on the Kippen painting with the two hills, which was hung beside the bookshelf. There was a repeat of the strange feeling of longing, just like the first time Jumpol had touched it. Jumpol searched every part of the painting, and his attention halted at the bottom right. Once again, the same curve of letters,  _ G. A. Phunsawat _ , scribbled in calligraphy. 

“Gun…” he called again, “... Hey, I want to see you…”

Gun slowly materialized in front of him. The ghost stood without a single word, taking off his top hat, laying it and his walking stick on the table. Jumpol smiled in relief. He set the handkerchief and the book alongside Gun’s top hat, and gently took the ghost’s left arm. 

“Where are we going?” Gun asked, confused.

Jumpol led him to the bed. 

“Off will catch a cold again…” Gun pouted.

Jumpol smiled, reassuring. He let Gun sit on his knees in the middle of the bed. His hand reached for the blanket, wrapping it around Gun’s body. 

“Off?” Gun tilted his head. 

Jumpol touched Gun’s cheek for a beat, then brought the ghost in to collapse beneath his embrace. Both of his arms clung to him tightly.  _ Ah, it feels like coming home. _

“Your family name is Phunsawat?” 

“Does Off remember?” Gun raised his head from Jumpol’s chest, eyes glinting in enthusiasm. 

Jumpol shook his head heavily, “Not yet…” he whispered while tightening his hold. 

“Oh…” Gun’s voice was disappointed. 

Jumpol stroked Gun’s hair. “Aster…” he breathed to the blanket covering Gun’s ear. The suffocating sorrow slowly crumbled, shifting into a yearning that ruptured inside, and an untraceable moment of relief.

“Off…” Gun froze. 

“Aster…” Jumpol did not know how the nickname came over him so suddenly.  _ My Aster… _

_ Who exactly are you, Gun Phunsawat? Why don’t I want to ever lose you again, as if we once used to be closer than we are... _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hii thank you for reading <3


	11. The Reminiscence Bump (Part 2)

**Sangpotirat Mansion, Kippen**

**West Stirlingshire, Scotland**

**Krist’s Birthday, 1898**

Gun rushed away without thinking, approaching the crowd of girls across the room. He was actually not used to asking other people to dance with him, but being in close proximity with Earl Adulkittiporn’s son could seriously injure his sanity. 

_Hhhh I’d like to go home…_ This was exactly why he’d insisted on refusing to attend this Viscount Krist’s birthday party. But, his sister had been dying to come and he didn’t have the heart to let Pim go on her own. Cursed be the creature named Off and the entirety of his absurd personality. 

“Brother! What a coincidence, come dance with me…” 

Pim pulled her brother’s arm, leading him to the center of the dance floor. 

“Wh--eh, Pim!” Gun was dragged, didn’t have a choice but to follow his sister. “What the hell, Pim? I’m feeling rather infuriated, don’t provoke me even more,” Gun grumbled. 

“Shhh! I’m also infuriated at you, hold my waist!” Pim grabbed Gun’s right hand, forcing it to touch her waist. 

The two twins danced despite the waves of tension, led by Eugen Doga’s _Gramophone._

“Ish! You stepped on my foot, Pim. Did you do that on purpose?” Gun grimaced, but the two Phunsawats’ steps remained synchronized with the rhythm.

“Tell me, brother…” Pim pinched the right edge of her dress, Gun held her left hand, the Viscount Phunsawat’s daughter spun gracefully. “Why would these girls bet that Earl Off is going to ask me for a dance?”

“Huh? What are you saying, Pim? How would I know…” Gun struggled to keep up with his sister’s movements that seemed to be highly influenced by rage.

“Don’t kid around, brother. Why does everyone consider Earl Off and me an incredibly compatible pair the last time we danced…” Gun stared at his sister, his eyes big. “... Hmm? When have I ever danced with him?” 

Gun gulped. 

“Uh, about that, Pim…” _Damn it! Why do people still reminisce about that ghastly dance?!_

“Brother? Don’t tell me you did what I’m thinking…”

Gun smiled timidly.

“Brother! For god’s sake, you danced with him? When you pretended to be me?!”  
“Shhh… lower your voice, Pim!” 

“You are aware, I have no intention of pursuing Earl Off! Were you out of your mind? In case you’ve forgotten, brother, the Phunsawats are not bootlickers.” 

“What is that supposed to mean?” Gun glared sharply.

“Ow!” Pim screeched, Gun purposely stepped on his sister’s foot. 

“Do you reckon I consciously humiliated myself in front of that weasel? Listen, Pim, even if he asks civilly for my permission, I would still never allow someone like him to court you!”

“Why are you getting riled up, I’m the one ought to be furious!” 

Gun sighed heavily. Ever since his meeting with Earl Off, for some reason he felt his life had been one quick descent into utter chaos. 

“Brother…” 

“The bastard pressured me to dance on purpose, Pim. He only wanted to bruise my dignity…” 

“He?” 

“Earl Off knew it was me, not you.” 

Pim came to a grinding halt. She froze. 

“He????????!” 

“Shhh… Ssshhh… I told you to be quiet, Pim! Don’t stop moving, you’ll embarrass us both!” Gun catched both of his sister’s hands, pushing her to keep dancing.

Pim jerked back. “Are you serious?” she whispered. 

“So what Godji said was true? Earl Off once visited our mansion because he’d wished to meet you, not me?” 

“Hahhhh… To this moment, he’s still unable to leave me alone. It drives me mad, okay?”  
Pim took a sudden step closer to Gun, trying to speak in the lowest voice possible. Her face lost all playfulness. 

“Ssshhh, brother, don’t say such things… From now on, you must act sweeter to him…” 

“Huh? What nonsense is this, Pim?” 

“Ck! Listen to me, brother… you said he knew you went as me at that party, imagine if he tells people? It’ll be the end of us!” Pim rambled on, agitated. 

Gun contemplated it. “Earl has promised not to say a word about it to anyone…” Gun said, uncertain, remembering how lightly Off almost mentioned his secret to Singto earlier. 

Pim eyed him in disbelief. “And you just simply believed him?” 

“But…” Gun turned towards where Off and Singto were across the room, “It has been months and there’s not a rumour in the wind.” Gun’s heart started to drum against his chest, alarmed.

“I don’t give a damn how it’s taken care of, brother. If mother and father ever find out about it, we’ll be doomed.” Pim whispered, pressuring him.

“What has gotten into you, Pim? You dare threaten your older brother?” Gun swayed carelessly, no longer concentrated on their dance. 

Pim rolled her eyes. “Please, you’re only older by three minutes… Speaking of which--” 

The music stopped. _Gramophone_ had finished playing. 

“--Earl Off has not blinked once since he set his eyes on us…” 

Gun shivered, having goosebumps all of a sudden. “Let’s just go home…” Gun persuaded miserably. Pim shook her head, both of her hands crossed at her chest. 

“No! You have to convince Earl Off to keep his lips sealed. And if he requests certain conditions, do comply with them… Now, good luck, brother.” Pim scrambled to leave his brother alone in a daze on the dance floor.

“Wh--Oi, Pim! What the--” 

***

“What are you doing, Earl Off?” 

Singto asked the Earl’s son beside him who was still laughing. His gaze had not left Gun’s back as he approached his sister. 

“Do what? What do you mean?” 

Off asked back, between his laughter which had not yet subsided. 

“Off, I’m serious… quit trifling with him.”

Off’s laughter dissipated, throwing an offended look at Singto. 

“You think I haven’t got a clue about what you have been doing with Krist behind my back, hmm, Singto?” 

Singto ruffled his hair, his left hand still busy holding a glass of wine. 

“Off… you know you are the last person Krist and I wish to hide anything from. But this is not a silly game. Do not toy with Gun.”

“Who says I’m toying with anything…”

“Off…”

“ _Aishh!_ Here, hand me your wine… you’re ruining my mood.” Off grabbed the glass from Singto’s grip, twirling the wine with dismay. 

“I’ve never seen you in this state, Earl Off… Why not Pim?” 

Singto observed Gun and Pim in the middle of their dance. For some reason, the two Phunsawats seemed to be having an argument. 

Off finished the wine in one gulp. 

“Why Krist?” he replied sharply. 

“Off, look at me,” Singto focused his gaze on Off. The pit in his stomach worsened. Off looked away. 

“Off…” 

“ _Hhhh…_ what?” Off glared back unwillingly. 

Singto flinched. Having been close friends with Earl’s son since childhood, Singto could judge what Off was thinking just by the look of his face. Unfortunately, the two glowing onyx were radiating honesty.

“Shit, Off… since when?” _Damn, how could this have happened_. Off must not end up like him and Krist. 

Off cast his eyes away again. “The first time I met him…” he whispered. 

“Hunting Day? … God, I should’ve forced you to come into the woods, instead of staying there teaching Gun how to shoot,” Singto cursed himself. Why hadn’t he noticed the signs? Singto felt betrayed. 

“That wasn’t it…” 

“Huh?”

Off turned to him, his face lined with exhaustion. “In Krist’s shop… a week before the Spring Ball.” 

Singto gaped. “At first sight?” he blurted disbelievingly. “Off, The Charmer? Every girl in Kippen has her knees on the ground for you, and you fell in love with Gun Atthaphan at first sight?” 

“Don’t tease me, damn you!” Off lowered his face, hiding the flush on his cheeks behind his palm.

“Shit, Off! You are so whipped!” 

“Not a word, Sing! Don’t talk to me that way… _Look at him!_ ” Off pointed at Gun with his chin. The Viscount Phunsawat’s son was swiftly dancing on the dance floor. “There’s something wrong with him, okay? He’s different… _unreal_ ,” he breathed. 

Singto shook his head in frustration. 

“First of all, Off, stop messing with him… Don’t meet him too often. I will help you.” 

“Not a chance…”

“Off…” 

“I never forbid your dalliance with Krist,” Off sulked. 

“I don’t want you to be trapped like Krist and I!” 

Off gave a long sigh, heavily flopping his body against the nearest wall behind him. “You needn't worry, Sing… Gun detests me… You saw it yourself, didn’t you?” he said, dejected. 

“But if you keep making advances that way---”  
The music stopped. _Gramophone_ had finished playing. 

“Look at that, Krist is done dancing. Go ahead, whisk him away. I know you’ve been holding back from piercing daggers into those girls’ heads.” Off sneered at Krist who was walking towards the toilet. 

“Off, look at me… Don’t hide anything from me, okay? If you need help putting Gun out of your mind, tell me… I’m still your best friend, aren’t I?” 

“Tsk. Yes, yes already, there… go. Don’t say a word to Krist.” 

“Please, stop bothering Gun…” Singto watched Krist’s back disappear behind the wall. 

Off grinned, “I don’t want to…”

“Off!” 

“See you later, Singto!” Off waved casually, choosing to walk over to Gun who was still nailed to the dance floor. His star-stealing aster seemed to be arguing with his sister. He smiled, silently muttering, no matter how impossible his future may become with the Viscount Phunsawat’s son, Off wouldn’t run away from himself. 

“Hey, Gun!” Off tapped Gun’s shoulder with his index finger. Gun jolted, turning his head around hesitatingly. The Earl Adulkittiporn’s son was smiling with his teeth wide open behind him. 

_Hell._

“Excuse me, Earl Off, I need to use the loo.” 

Gun fled the scene as fast as he could. He could see his sister scowling in disapproval. _For whatever’s sake, why did his sister have to also take part in overcomplicating his life!_

“What, Gun? Hey, wait--”  
Off called, puzzled. He chose to hurry along and follow the Phunsawat's son. 

***

**Number 31A, Kippen**

**West Stirlingshire, Scotland**

**End of June, 2000**

Jumpol scanned his chessboard, analyzing which piece he should move to at least delay Chinnarat’s winning streak. The butler was shockingly excellent in playing the chess pieces, while Jumpol had gone into it blind. He’d already been defeated twice. If it hadn’t been for Gun’s enthusiasm in guiding him through the steps, the Adulkittiporn’s heir wouldn’t ever allow a third match. 

Jumpol glanced at the ghost hovering behind Chinnarat. Gun shook his head, his face visibly disappointed. The Oxford freshman sighed, dragging one of the black pawns to a random position. 

Chinnarat smiled, watching the young man’s face in front of him turn sour. “Ah, I apologize, My Lord.” White queen from row d1 moved diagonally to h5. “Checkmate,” the butler whispered cheerily.

Jumpol really wanted to flip the chessboard upside down, clutter all the pieces. 

They were sitting in the backyard, enjoying the mansion’s gentle afternoon breeze. After lunch earlier, New suddenly called, inviting Jumpol and Tay for a visit to his mansion. The King’s College student had grumbled, babbling endlessly about how lonely he was in the mansion, but wasn’t exactly undaunted by the prospect of coming back to 31A. He’d persuaded Tay with vigorous tenacity, to see the dark room he once told him about. Jumpol actually had wanted to come along, but he wasn’t sure if Gun would be able to control himself. Besides, it was obvious New had no idea Gun would follow him wherever he went. The Adulkittiporn’s heir had no choice but to convince Tay to go on his own, letting Pirapat use his Bentley Arnage to drive his best friend to the location. 

Jumpol diverted his attention from the chess pieces to the _magnolia saucer_ , which was standing firmly a few steps where they were sitting. The leaves were lush and green, covering a handful of the remaining pale violet petals inside. _Magnolia, hmm where have I seen it before?_ Jumpol thought, trying to remember. The tree did not look unfamiliar to him. 

“Has the magnolia been there a long time?” Jumpol launched him a question as Chinnarat busied himself with rearranging the pieces back on the board. Chinnarat looked up, glancing at the lush green tree being rocked by the wind. 

“The magnolia has been there since your great grandfather was still alive, Earl.” 

Jumpol frowned, raising one of his eyebrows. “The tree can stay alive for centuries?”

“No, Earl,” Chinnarat shook his head, “every twenty or thirty years, I suppose. But we always change it. We try to keep your mansion as it is so not a lot of changes have happened.”

“We? We who?” 

Chinnarat seemed to ponder. The skies were blue, but the clouds marched on a little louder.

“If you weren’t aware, Earl, everyone here works for Earl Adulkittiporn from one generation to another. Like me, for example, I replaced my father and grandfather as the butler. Pirapat’s grandfather was in charge of your great grandfather’s stallions. Over there, once stood a stable--” Chinnarat pointed to the farthest corner of the vast grassy lawn. 

“Mr. Chinnarat… why do you call me Earl? Hasn’t my grandfather let go of our peerage title?” Jumpol once again fixed his eyes on the familiar magnolia tree. The same feeling of longing had returned to slip inside. For some reason, he wished for nothing more but to hold Gun’s hand.

“Ah, that…” the middle aged man reached for the black king, inspecting it. “It’s a long story, My Lord, I promise to recount it to you another time.” 

That noon, Jumpol had lost all interest in the attic. He wasn’t ready to encounter another one of Gun’s belongings. Lots of questions ran amok in his head, though he doubted the overflowing emotions, racing at full speed towards his chest was something he could face again. But why, did the tree, as it swayed to the caress of the wind, left him breathless all the same?

“I don’t want to play anymore.” Chinnarat stopped, his master’s voice trembled out of the blue. 

“Certainly, My Lord, I’m sorry for being a bore.” The butler collected the chess pieces he’d arranged earlier, carefully putting them back into the box. “I’ll have Nawat prepare tea for you.” 

Jumpol shook his head. _Magnolia, magnolia saucer…_

“My Lord?”  
“Go, Chinnarat. Don’t bother me.” 

Chinnarat flinched. A pair of eyes were firmly staring back; two glowing onyx, sharp, strong, dominant. Those were the eyes of a noble. The same eyes that watched him from the portrait on the second floor balcony. 

The Adulkittiporn’s heir rose up from his seat, his left hand stretched out. Chinnarat looked at him questioningly, but no sound came out of his mouth. 

“Come on, Gun…” 

The butler went speechless, feeling a chill slither down his back. 

“Earl?... Are you alright?” he choked out. 

“Give me your hand… Gun, I don’t care that you’re cold or anything else.. Here.” 

“My Lord?” 

The pair of glowing onyx turned to Chinnarat again, but this time adorned with a smile which seemed to be an attempt to calm him. “I’m fine, Chinnarat. Go back inside. I’d like to be alone with Gun.” 

The butler hugged the chess box with his right hand crossed against his chest. He bowed, and excused himself out as ordered. His master sauntered over through the lawn, his left hand outstretched as if holding somebody else’s hand, his steps clear as he approached the only magnolia saucer in the backyard. Chinnarat saw Earl Adukittiporn lying on the grass, looking up to the lush green tree. He forced himself to turn back into the mansion. 

The butler’s steps were steady, but his heart did not stop pounding. He repeatedly asked himself in his head, _Gun… that ghost… where have I heard that name?_

***

“Is Off not cold?” 

Jumpol Adulkittiporn squeezed the ghost’s hand as they lay on the grass side by side. His stubborn self was not willing to let go, despite the cold numbing his hand. 

“If I’d come during the spring, we could’ve seen the flowers bloom,” the young man uttered, his gaze not budging from the tree towering them over the sky. 

“There are still some left, look Off…” Gun pointed to some of the pale violet petals, sticking out of the gaps between the leaves. 

“Gun?” 

“Hmm? 

The Adulkittiporn’s heir tightened his grip on his hand, his face whirling towards Gun. The pair of glowing onyx stared deep into the ghost’s eyes. 

“Don’t throw up,” he said, grinning a little too wide. 

***

**Sangpotirat Mansion, Kippen**

**West Stirlingshire, Scotland**

**Krist’s Birthday, 1898**

“Gun, hey! Where are you going?”  
Earl Adulkittiporn’s son quickened his steps, catching up to Gun Atthaphan who was half-running away from him. 

“Why are you following me? I’m going to the restroom!” 

Gun exclaimed tensely, replying without turning back. He wasn’t even planning to slow down. 

Gun pushed the bronze golden-colored door. He could still hear Off’s footsteps persist to follow him. The room was quite spacious, he really wanted to hurry and get into one of the stalls in a row, and lock it close. The Viscount Phunsawat’s son turned left. He abruptly came to a halt. 

He caught his breath. 

His eyes widened. 

Over there, in front of the stall at the end of the hallway, Viscount Singto and Krist were kissing passionately. 

Gun felt his knees starting to give up, a shriek almost escaped his lips, but Off was faster. The older boy clasped Gun’s mouth in a tight hold, pulling the teenager out of the room. 

Off roughly pushed Gun, his back slamming against the wall right beside the bronze gold door. His left hand still remained above his mouth, his right one was gripping Gun’s left, his body pressing down, deadlocking the teenager’s movements. 

“Listen to me very carefully, Phunsawat…” Off hissed right in his ear. “...You did not see anything in there.” 

Gun squirmed. His free hand tried to yank the young man’s palm from his mouth. Off stepped forward, caging the shorter boy closer.

"You wouldn't want to know what I can do to you."

The Adulkittiporn's heir threatened under his breath. Gun looked into the pair of onyx in front of him, filled with terror. The eyes that usually shone bright, that stole glances towards him in coloured humour, were now staring him down sharply. Gun was terrified.

"You didn't see anything. You won't dare say _anything_ to _anyone_."

Gun shut his eyes, his whole body was trembling.

"You understand?!"

Gun quickly nodded, his eyes opened. He sent out a silent prayer.

Off backed away, slowly releasing the hold he had over Gun's mouth. The teenager let out a deep sigh. "I…" he whispered, voice anxious. "I won't say anything, but--" 

Off glared sharper. 

Gun tried all his might to defeat his fear.

"But you also have to promise not to say anything about what happened at the Spring--" 

"You think you have a right to negotiate?" 

Off crowded the boy's body once more, his right hand tightening the grip on Gun's left. His eyes were filled with rage. "If I heard the tiniest bit of rumour, just a little…"

_Ack!_ His wrist throbbed in pain. 

"Not just you. I'll destroy each and every Phunsawat."

"Off… it hurts…"

"Look at me!" The young man forced Gun to face his eyes. _Who are you?_ Gun thought. _Who are you? I don't recognize you._

"I even can destroy you right here and now."

"Arrghhh!" Gun squealed, holding it in. The taller boy was deliberately strangling his left hand so hard that it ripped his frock coat by the shoulder.

Gun pushed him away. Swinging a hard slap across his face.

Gun's breath was thunderous, his eyes glassy. He couldn't tell which was more painful. His shattered dignity or his wildly throbbing left wrist. Nobody had ever hurt him like this.

_His left wrist.. Oh, God…_ Gun pictured his beloved Stradivarius violin.

He glanced at Off, his eyes livid and hurt, then ran away in a haste. Gun Atthaphan Phunsawat hated the Adulkittiporn's son with all his heart.


	12. An Old Painted Canvas (Part 1)

**Number 1A, Kippen**

**West Stirlingshire, Scotland**

**End of June, 2000**

The 1998 Bentley Arnage sped forward, dividing the golden wheat fields. Tay fidgeted with his Leica, occasionally glancing at Pirapat who was concentrating behind the wheels. Frankly, he felt guilty for leaving Jumpol alone with the troublesome ghost, but despite how selfish it may sound, he really couldn’t miss on the opportunity to immortalize Kippen with his camera. The little town was too beautiful to be wasted. 

The car twisted along the main road, entering the residential area with dozens of Victorian-style mansions, lining as far as the eyes could see. The houses, now that he saw them with the sun still high, actually gave him a unique impression that he would rather associate with awe instead of fear. The Bentley slowed down, Pirapat swerved into a courtyard. Tay raised his eyebrows, scanning left and right, feeling a sense of familiarity with the place. 

Pirapat opened the door of the car for him. He excused himself to go meet the mansion’s guard for a discussion about a few plants, and made sure Tay wouldn’t hesitate to call for him if he needed assistance. Tay was greeted by a middle-aged woman named Jane. The woman led him to the backyard, steering him towards a gazebo that was facing a row of  _ arborvitae  _ trees. 

“Please wait a moment, Sir… Ah, I should’ve asked for your name first…” 

“Tay, Tay Tawan. You knew I wasn’t Jumpol?” 

The woman offered him an earnest smile, forming lines at the edge of her eyes. 

“A few days ago I met Earl Jumpol, Sir, the Earl asked for directions--” 

“Oh!” Tay interrupted hastily, “No wonder I don’t feel unfamiliar with the house’s courtyard, Ma’am. We stopped right in front of here that night.” 

The woman smiled again. “You shouldn’t call me that, Sir. My name is Jane, I’ll fetch Viscount New for you.”

Tay watched as Jane’s back disappeared into the house. The mansion was not as large as the Adulkittiporn’s, but for some reason, the building felt more like home than his best friend’s mansion. While waiting for New to meet him, Tay tried to aim his camera towards the row of cone-shaped arborvitae trees that had grown lush and green. Thinking of what excuse he would say to New once he saw Jumpol had not come with him. 

The squeal of the milky-white skinned boy was heard before Tay could even notice him. He almost dropped his Leica out of shock.

“Why didn’t Earl come with you?” New pouted. 

“Eh… Jumpol hasn’t finished cleaning the attic.” 

“Cleaning the attic?? Earl would rather attend to that ghost than to meet me, so despicable…” 

_ Huh? _ Tay quickly corrected himself. “It’s not like that, New…”  _ Crap, seemed like he said the wrong thing.  _

New clapped once, and a smile bloomed on his face. “It’s alright, I’ll force him myself tomorrow! Now, Tay, want to see my dark room?” 

The Oxford freshman nodded enthusiastically, they walked side by side towards the building near the garden, separated from the main mansion. After pulling back a black curtain, Tay was welcomed with a red glow that illuminated the entire room. Tens of photos were hung aligned with one another, all monochrome. 

“You took all these pictures?” Tay asked, astonished. 

New laughed. “They’re not that good… I photograph when I have spare time. Thames, my campus, my cousin’s house in London.” 

“I didn’t think you’re the kind to like monochrome. All in black and white.” 

“Huh? What does that mean? What kind of person do you think I am? Are you insulting me, Tay…” 

Tay quickly turned to New, “Eh, it’s not that… I mean, you always seem so cheerful, I thought you’d prefer more color in your photographs.” 

New laughed again. “I do…” he said, giggling. “But printing colored photos is too bothersome, hahaha. I usually leave that to Joss, ah it’s so annoying… I forgot they went to Switzerland for a vacation and left me here alone.” The young man clicked his tongue in exasperation. 

“Why didn’t you come with them?” Tay observed the photograph of Palace of Westminster and Big Ben which had been taken from the other side of the River Thames. 

“I was still completing my exams when they were planning to go,” New joined to inspect the photographs Tay was staring at. “I took it a few times, but all of them ended up blurred, what a shame… Only this one came out decent.”

“Decent? It’s excellent, New… Why not just join them there?” Tay shifted to another photograph in the line. He paused again, studying a portrait that looked like the interior of a church.  _ Hmm, this seems familiar, maybe one of the chapels in London?  _ Tay thought, then realized New hadn’t answered his question. He turned his head, finding the young man awkwardly scratching the back of his neck. 

“Why?” Tay raised an eyebrow. 

Perhaps it was the dim lighting, or the red tint reflecting off the walls, the King’s College student looked like he was blushing. 

“D-don’t tell Earl about this, okay, Tay?” 

_ He? What’s this got to do with Jumpol?  _

“I cancelled my trip to Switzerland, because Jane called that Earl was paying Kippen a sudden visit, hehe...” New scratched his cheek. 

Tay stood stunned. This young man had decided to come to Kippen, spend his summer days all by himself in a mansion this huge, only to meet his best friend? Tay really couldn’t understand these aristocrats’ reasonings.

“You wanted to see my best friend that bad?” 

New scratched his cheek again, silently thinking about his great grandmother’s last wish. 

“Eh, my family and the Earl’s have a little bit of history… But, I think Earl himself doesn’t know. Hahh… nevermind, let’s just walk around, Tay. You’re making me sad.” 

“Sorry, I’m--”

New fanned his hand in front of Tay, cutting his apology. 

“I’ll take you around Kippen!” he exclaimed, cheerily. “I’d like to try out your Leica,” he added with a grin. He crossed over to the end of the room, about to exit the dark room. Tay couldn’t help but follow. 

“Eh, New, who’s this?” Tay stopped suddenly, pointing at one of the monochrome photographs, hanging at the very end of the row. A portrait of a person playing the violin. 

New glanced back, “Oh, that… he’s Joss’ little brother, I live with him in London. Why?” 

Tay shook his head, for some reason the teenager standing with the violin in his hand appeared awfully different than the rest. “Does everyone in your family know how to play the violin?”

“Almost everyone… but Att’s the best one, really,” New mentioned offhandedly, while opening the black curtain at the edge of the room. “Let’s use my car, Tay, I’ll drive.” 

The silver 1999 Saab 9-5 roared alive as it left the gates of mansion 1A. The two young men had not yet returned when the telephone in the living room blared a ring.

***

**Number 1A, Kippen**

**West Stirlingshire, Scotland**

**The Art Canvas, 1898**

Gun Atthaphan had been lamenting over his violin for more than a week now. He hadn’t expected for his left wrist to be so badly sprained. Don’t ask how this tragedy could've happened, the last thing Gun wanted was to remember the night of Viscount Krist’s birthday. He was still determined to keep his mouth shut, not telling anybody about the origin of his injury, except for the bluff where he claimed it had been caused by none other than his own lack of attention. Pim, his younger twin sister, so brimming with curiosity, had urged him day after day to tell her the truth, but Gun retained his silence. 

The two siblings were spending an afternoon in the backyard’s gazebo, enjoying a plate of scones and peppermint tea. Pim had drowned herself in “Poems, in Two Volumes'' by William Wordsworth, once in a while peeking at her brother as he kept busy with painting strokes on the canvas. A few times, he could be heard clicking his tongue, struggling to pour the paint and mix the colors on the palette. Since returning from the Viscount Krist residence some time ago, his mood had been less than dreary, and the sudden injury on his left hand was not making it better. Beside being upset that he couldn’t play the violin, Pim was certain her brother must be frustrated with boredom. 

Gun didn’t like to paint. But, today, her brother had asked for a canvas and tubs of paint to be prepared out of the blue. Pim felt her twin was bent on repressing his desire to hold the violin so much, that he'd grapple with the things he hated the most; paintbrushes and a palette. At first, Pim thought her brother had wanted to pierce the canvas with the brush in his hand, seeing how aggressive Gun had been to the fabric. But, fortunately, a few minutes passed and his brother had begun to paint more gently. Pim could even recognize the two hills flanking Kippen, Fintry and Gargunock, also River Forth, peeking out from the canvas.

Pim was just about to read the Eligiac Stanzas part when Godji scrambled towards them. The maid whispered in Pim’s ear, reporting the arrival of the Earl Adulkittiporn’s son to their mansion. Pim widened her eyes, quickly setting her book on the table, and hurried inside. 

To be honest, Pim had suspected her brother’s grim mood and sprained wrist were somehow relevant to Earl Off Adulkittiporn. But, she didn’t dare confirm her suspicion. Why was the Earl’s son even suddenly visiting?

Pim Phunsawat was startled with the figure standing still in the mansion’s living room, his face empty. The young man resembled a complete mess. He wore a formal attire as usual, but the rings under his eyes were dark, his face was pale, and his hair had been combed without real effort. 

“Earl Off?” Pim called, uncertain. 

The older boy flinched, seemed to be waking up from his trance. “My Lady…” he tried to offer a smile, “...May I see your brother?”

“Uh…” Pim considered. His brother’s spirits had been particularly awful, she wasn’t sure if this visit of the Earl’s son wouldn’t just further aggravate him. But, the young man looked pathetic.  _ Aishhh _ , it seemed like Pim’s assumption was correct, the two of them were having some problems. 

“Ah, my brother is in the backyard, Earl. Come…” Pim led the way, allowing Off to follow her. The Phunsawat’s daughter mumbled in her head, praying she wasn’t making the wrong decision. 

Gun was still busy sweeping his brush all over the canvas. Golden yellow paint was applied again and again, it looked like he was trying to create the layout of wheat fields. Pim swallowed, speaking carefully. “Brother, there’s someone here to see you…”

“I didn’t know you could paint,” Off interrupted. 

Gun’s hand froze immediately. Pim could see his brother drawing a long breath, possibly trying to calm himself. A second later, the brush returned to sweep over the canvas as if the unsettling pause had never happened. Off stood unmoving. Pim stared at both of them alternately, the tension enveloping them alarmed her. 

Gun turned for a moment, blatantly without any interest. Then resumed to focus on his paintbrush and canvas. “I couldn’t… But someone has disabled me from playing my violin,” he said coldly. 

Pim gasped, her head whipped to the Earl’s son beside her in anger. A series of questions was just about to explode on her tongue, but Godji quickly pulled her hand, forcing her to move away. 

Pim noticed the shoulders of the tall young man sank. His palm seemed to be holding something in the pocket of his pants. “I’m sorry,” he said, his voice sincere, while taking out a small box from his pocket. 

Pim waited with unease, but his brother remained engrossed in each drag of his brush. He was dabbing a few birds in the sky on the canvas. Pretending not to hear. He wouldn’t even spare a glance, let alone utter a word to respond. 

Off stepped forward towards Gun without being told to. And all of a sudden he dropped down and propped himself on one knee. Pim and Godji’s mouths hung open, their hearts free-falling to the ground.

“I don’t mean to be a nuisance. I came here to apologize. I'll do anything you want until you’re willing to forgive me.” Off said sternly, attempting to hide the velvet box in his right hand.

Gun’s brush faltered once more. His grip on the paintbrush tightened. Pim was afraid his brother was going to break the painting tool. But the grip slowly loosened. Gun took the blue paint, building strokes mindlessly. 

“Gun…” Off’s tone was pleading. 

Gun turned his head to the side momentarily, before returning to fix his gaze on the canvas. His brush kept moving. “Get out of my house,” he said in a flat voice. “Never appear in my sight again.”

Gun pulled his brush away, scanning the whole surface of the canvas. The painting was done. He poured some white paint, marking the low right corner of the canvas with his name,  _ G. A. Phunsawat. _

Off raised his head, not expecting to hear that sentence would be directed at him. He kept the velvet box in a tight grip, hiding the disappointment and anger at himself.

“Yes, My Lord,” Off replied before standing up. He buried the box again inside the pocket of his pants, then gave a small bow to Pim and Godji, walking out of the Phunsawat mansion with firm steps.

“Brother!”    


“My Lord!” 

Pim and Godji shrieked in horror. 

How could this be possible… how could a Phunsawat let the heir of an Earl kneel beside him and throw him out so easily!

***

**Number 31A, Kippen**

**West Stirlingshire, Scotland**

**End of June, 2000**

Long ago, Mike Chinnarat’s father once told him about the summer that changed everything in the mansion. Jumpol’s grandfather had only been 20 years old at the time. It had been one parching afternoon, the wind had been hesitant to blow. His angry footsteps approached Earl Off, who was sitting motionless in front of the piano. Chinnarat’s father had said, he still remembered that yell. Questions had echoed around the corners of the walls, pulsing with judgement. 

“You had an affair with a Phunsawat?! Was that the real reason behind my mother’s death? You let my mother die?!”

Chinnarat’s father hadn’t known where that horrid accusation had come from. But, Earl Off had remained quiet in his seat. Letting his son shout, spilling the lifelong rage he didn’t realize had settled in his heart. Earl Off acted like usual after that, kept talking as if nothing had happened, discussing their wine business, playing his son’s favorite piano pieces, while Jumpol’s grandfather clung to his silence. The gruelling relationship had lasted all summer, but Earl Off had maintained his smile without tire, pouring his endless love for his son nonetheless.

Until one morning, in a damp rainy autumn, Jumpol’s grandfather had asked to enlist with the troops in Edinburgh, diving directly into the catastrophic state of the World War. Earl Off had looked as if he’d been struck by lightning, his eyes falling dim.  _ Earl had suffered too much, you know, Mike?  _ That was how Chinnarat’s father had said it. But, Earl Off had forced himself to smile, told his son to stay careful, prayed for his safety, and begged not to forget to come home to him, to Kippen, to this house. Chinnarat’s father had thought Earl Adulkittiporn, who had been marked with age, might wish for a warm embrace from his son before they parted, but Jumpol’s grandfather had only bowed courteously, packed his items and left without much else to say.

Two years later, Earl Off had found his son going home with a limp. A shrapnel from the bomb explosion had injured him, but fortunately, Jumpol’s grandfather hadn’t lost both of his legs. During that warm spring season, while the two Adulkittiporn were savouring their afternoon tea in the backyard, watching the magnolia saucer bloom with pale violet flowers, Jumpol’s grandfather recounted that he’d befriended a Viscount under the same division in the Edinburgh troops, Techaapaikhun, his mother was a Phunsawat. The only Phunsawat, and the Viscountess had left Kippen, had returned to Ediburgh, even before Earl Off married his mother. The careless accusation he’d shoved at his father a long time ago had been unsubstantiated.

The relationship between the father and son was gradually improving, although questions remained clawing at the back of Jumpol grandfather’s mind. But, war had changed everybody. Jumpol’s grandfather no longer had the desire to socialize with the nobles. He started to reject dinner invitations or mere idle talk at a ball.  _ In the battlefield, bullets recognize no title nor surname _ , he’d said one day,  _ I long to be a commoner.  _

But the conversation regarding the will to discard his title had still not yet been initiated, even after he’d asked for the permission to marry and start his own business in London. That was, until the call from Chinnarat’s father on one frozen winter morning, updating him on Earl Off’s decreasing health and the urgency to visit Kippen as soon as possible. They chatted in the study room after Jumpol’s grandfather finished humming to La Campanella with the piano in the corner. Earl Off still managed to laugh, smiled in pride, praised his son’s dedication to start his own business in London. At the time, a few years had passed since the Adulkittiporn wine business stopped operating. The vineyard which had overlaid the Kippen earth for decades, had been transformed into fields of wheat. Earl Off had shared 5.000 square feet of his land to each resident of Kippen, because in his heart, he had known his only son was already happy with his new life in London.

Jumpol’s grandfather had kneeled in front of the Earl, fixing the loose blanket sides. He could see a smile painted on that old face, wrinkles forming in random places, and a pair of onyx eyes which never failed to be gentle. All his life as the heir of this man, Jumpol’s grandfather had stored a lot of questions in his mind. Why was there not one portrait of his mother on the walls of this mansion, how did the rumour about his father and a Phunsawat--which he was already certain to be not true--always find its way to his ears. But, Jumpol’s grandfather had to admit, this man was the perfect father for him. As a child, he had always asked for many things which he’d known would do nothing but hurt his father. But the Earl had also never denied his son of anything or simply gotten angry. His request at that moment had been no exception.

Earl Off’s gaze had turned stiff once the sentence was launched. But, not long after that, his genuine smile began to unfurl as usual. And so it was, like every other request, Jumpol’s grandfather had always been free to do whatever brought him the most happiness. Ever since then, two weeks before Earl Off passed away in his sleep during a violent snowstorm outside the windows, Jumpol’s grandfather had stopped using the title of Earl before his name. Leaving out his rights to keep sitting in the House of Lords. Starting over with his small family as a plain Adulkittiporn. 

The family of Jumpol’s grandfather had continued to visit mansion 31A once a year. Unfortunately, in the summer of 1973, when Jumpol’s grandfather had intended to introduce his prospective daughter-in-law to Kippen, Dararat for some unknown reason became quite interested with the painting on the wall, above the piano in the study room. The painting of Kippen flanked by two hills, with a twisting river and a stretch of blue sky. Jumpol’s grandfather had also begun to observe the painting he’d barely spared a glance at. Then, accidentally, his eyes landed on the right corner of the canvas, the white cursive letters forming a single name:  _ G. A. Phunsawat. _

Sompob and Dararat had married after that, and the Adulkittiporn family stopped visiting Kippen altogether. Jumpol’s grandfather had kept the pain, disappointment, and the millions of questions inside his head. Despite his years of neglect on Kippen, he’d still adhered to his father’s last wish: he could relinquish his noble title, but not officially.

***

Chinnarat sighed, eyes fixed on Earl Off’s portrait hung in the second floor balcony above the ballroom. Imagining how long of a journey the young man in the portrait had to endure, that even after 100 years upon the completion of this painting, his great grandson still suddenly showed up bearing a new hope. Chinnarat wished, like his grandfather, Earl Jumpol would also eventually change his mind about selling mansion 31A. 

“Mr. Chinnarat!” 

Chinnarat turned around, seeing Earl Jumpol jog up the stairs of the second floor.  _ Ah, this young man was calling him Mr. again… _

“Yes, My Lord?”

“Are you familiar with the Phunsawat family in Kippen?” the young man asked impatiently. 

Chinnarat took in the sight of the Earl in front of him. He could spot a few strands of dried grass stuck to his pants, perhaps because he had just been lying on the backyard’s lawn. 

“Eh, Phunsawat? Of course, My Lord.”

“Do you know where they live? Can you take me there?” 

“Eh, Earl Jumpol, but you just declined Viscount New’s invitation to his mansion…”

Jumpol blinked. He frowned in confusion.

“Viscount New is an heir of the Phunsawat family, My Lord. His surname follows his grandfather’s family name.” 

Chinnarat could see both of Earl Jumpol’s eyes widening. The young man rushed back down the stairs. 

“Eh, Earl Jumpol?” Chinnarat watched him questioningly. 

The young man was half-running towards the phone in the living room, flipping through pages of the telephone book. Chinnarat followed him, maybe his master was trying to call the Phunsawat mansion. 

As he climbed down the stairs, Chinnarat halted in a realization.  _ Gun… that ghost’s name… then, Phunsawat? _ Yes! Chinnarat remembered now! Gun Phunsawat, the name of the Viscount New’s great grandmother's twin who had died too young…

***

**Stirling Bridge, River Forth**

**Stirling, Scotland**

**End of June, 2000**

Tay and New were crossing over the bridge which arched over the River Forth. Tay was helping the King’s College student operate his Leica, aiming it at all directions with enthusiasm. 

“You come here often, New?” Tay opened the conversation. He bent his head down, watching the river flow calmly beneath him. 

New nodded eagerly, handing the Leica back to Tay. He was done taking pictures. “Whenever my cousins and I visit Kippen, we always make time to come here,” he said, arms extended, breathing deep. “Stirling Bridge, the first battle during the First War of Scottish Independence took place right where we stand,” he continued with a smile.

“Wow, you know the history too?” 

“A bit…” New grinned again, his eyes raised towards the broad sunny sky.

_ The Battle of Stirling Bridge _ , the battle which had broken out in 1297, when the forces of Andrew Moray and William Wallace had defeated the combined English forces of John de Warenne, 6th Earl of Surrey, and Hugh de Cressingham near Stirling, on the River Forth. 

“By the way…” New turned to Tay, “...you guys were in the same club as Joss, I wonder why Joss didn’t recognize Earl Jumpol… We both lived very close to each other, but have only met now, so annoying…”

“Eh, if I’m not wrong,” Tay considered, “I remember Joss asking Jumpol once about a house in Scotland--” 

“Huh? Are you serious?!”

“--but Jumpol said there was none, because his family thought the house had already been sold a long time ago… Come to think of it, we weren’t really all that close, we were backup players and both of us were still new to the club during Joss’ final year…” 

“But Joss knew the Earl’s family name. Just you see, I’ll berate him without mercy! How irritating!” 

A group of fishes could be seen swimming right under the surface of the river. Tay stared at the young man beside him in curiosity. 

“Why did you want to meet Jumpol so badly?” 

New sighed, hands crossing at the edge of the bridge’s railing. He focused on the sun as it began to descend on the horizon, creating a tinge of reddish hue their eyes treasured so much.

"My great grandmother hated Earl Off, I don't know why… although my grandpa used to be friends with Jumpol's grandpa, they were under the same unit during the World War in Edinburgh. But my grandpa said, once he knew that he was actually my great grandmother's son, Jumpol's grandpa looked repulsed. I also have no clue as to why he would hate my family..."

"You don't know why your families were against each other?

New shook his head. "I don't know, Tay… But before she died, my great grandmother had one final request, she wanted us to fix our relationship with the Earl's family. I feel I have an obligation to follow through with her wish, so that's why… Besides, I'm really curious to hear the story from the Earl's perspective… Help me, yeah, Tay… Convince Earl so he'd want to meet me in my mansion…"

Tay scratched the back of his head awkwardly.

"Eh, it's really not that he doesn't want to see you…"

"What? Then why?" 

_ Hmm… how should I say it _ . "Don't freak out, but…"

"Eh, What is it, Tay?" 

"It's about the ghost, New… If his request is not yet fulfilled, the ghost will follow Jumpol wherever he goes… Jumpol was afraid the ghost would scare you, or worse, destroy your mansion."

_ Heeee?????? _

Tay smiled clumsily, feeling bad for the scream the young man produced in front of him. The Stirling sky was dimming, Tay thought perhaps it was time for them to go home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (A/N) thank you for coming by to read this hahaha… it's really a surprise… So initially I was just making it for fun because of the insomnia I've had for months. After rewatching Black Butler (do you guys know Black Butler aka Kuroshitjusi?) suddenly I pictured baby Gun wearing Ciel Phantomhive's outfit. Boom! Then this was made, it's so random… Now, I'm just so nervous I won't be writing consistently till the end hahaha… Take care of your health, corona sucks but life must go on💚
> 
> (T/N hehe) sorry for updating after so long again i'm literally the worst at this. i hope you enjoyed this chapter's translation, the flashback took me really long like man chinnarat's memory is no joke. also gun that was quite the burn omg.


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